Blackout
by Choco
Summary: Zelda was born with a curse. Seduced by Ganondorf's power, she is held in thrall, but the arrival of an outsider sends her on a quest of self-discovery, identity, and salvation. TP and OoT-based AU.
1. Fears

My husband must die.

One day, one distant unnamed day, I will lead him free of this castle, past the patchwork-quilt fields disallowed me, into the shadowy woods where the unlettered horde lurks, and kill him. I will slide a dagger between his ribs when he holds me close and later, weeping before his court, recount how the horde swept over us and took the brave king's life. I will accompany him out when the drifting black snow falls again and when afterward he lies abed, delirious with fever, I will bathe him in icy water until his shivering stops. I will feed him sweet lies and sweeter poisons, and smile to myself when he is lost in coma. I will—

I will do nothing of the sort. This I know. We are the goddesses' instruments, he and I, imbued with their favor, but his Power far outweighs my own. Should my husband die, we in this castle will not long outlive him. He has delivered us from death once, a thousand times, pushing back the dark's advance through the sheer force of his will when my strength reaches its end. We are a kingdom unto ourselves now, a castle surrounded by a ravenous shadowy sea. If Hylians still live past the portcullis that separates us from the dark, I do not know of them. We are alone together in the world now.

Without him, I would have died. We would have all died. Yet…he is no true king. Before the dark came, he was a lord, a rebel when he claimed that cold crown while we dwelled in anarchy, but that isn't enough. He is gifted with potent Power, the least subtle of the goddesses' gifts, yet also the most unpredictable when possessed by one of his temperament. A king must never possess Power without knowing how to wield it.

"Zelda." His voice is like a whip, rousing me from my thoughts. I look up from my hands; he is waiting for me near the door, his skin shimmering with Wisdom's warm glow, his eyes burning with Power. Seeing he has my attention, he gestures toward my bed. "The supplicant awaits us. Your gloves…"

I feel shame warming my cheeks as his scrutinizing gaze remains upon me; I should not have to be reminded of that, not after so many years. My own gift decrees the gloves, if I wish to live my days free of Power's siren song. Quickly, I cross to my bed where the gloves have been laid out by Roselin and pull them over my soft white hands, at once feeling calmer. Despite the dubious comfort that provides, I feel my heart beating like a bird trapped in a cage of bone at the thought of the task that awaits us this night.

My steps are hesitant as I walk over to accompany him. I look him up and down with badly concealed anxiety. He is dressed as befits the warlord he once was: black breeches, wool jerkin, and pieces of boiled leather scavenged from the lower levels of the castle. My eyes take in the sight of the hard set of his mouth and the way he grips the hilt of his sheathed sword; he is handsome, for an older man, but I've always disliked his restless eyes.

And I see the other things as well, as noticeable to me as the lines of age on his face and the calluses on his hands: the warm cloud of energy that surrounds him, the goddesses' favor made starkly apparent, and beneath it all the crushing exhaustion that saps the strength of us both. I feel a rising anxiousness, brought on more by the fact that I cannot share my worries and fears more than anything else. None other would see – or question – what I see in him.

He is looking at me as well. Those eyes, at once the brightest and darkest I have ever known, seem to peel away my clothing and even my skin, baring my very soul to his judgment. Beneath my sheath of silk, I shiver. What does he see when he looks at me like that? A prize, a possession, a burden?

Finally, I reach him, and even from behind my meticulously built walls, I tremble under the force of his Power – but Ganondorf is looking at me expectantly, so I know I must show no weakness. Tentatively, I take him by the arm.

He leads me without, never saying so much as the slightest word. In the hallway, dungeon shadows dance along the walls, their sinuous movements unimpeded in the absence of light. Disquieted, I try to concentrate instead on the feeling of Ganondorf's arm linked with my own, on the knot of anxiousness in my middle growing ever more concentrated with every step.

Our footsteps echo loud in the darkness, sounding a ghostly procession behind us, but elsewise all is still. I want to say something, want to break the strained silence that has marked our time together, but each time fear kills the words in my throat. Ganondorf never notices my minor turmoil – or at least does nothing to alleviate it, not the sort to engage in idle chatter.

Nothing else moves. The way before us looms dark, silent, and still. Behind the oaken doors we pass, what remains of our court is likely lost in uneasy dreams. Few are foolish enough to wander the halls after true dark has fallen, opting instead to hide within their apartments till the most dangerous time has passed and dawn has come once more. Would that I could do the same this night…

We climb a short stair leading to the roof and proceed down a hall lined with swords and spears and morningstars, reserved from a time when the dark held us besieged. At the far end, black rain is falling, softly pattering against the roof and raising cold mist wherever it lands. Ganondorf nudges me and I hurriedly pull my cowl over my hair. We are not completely insulated from threat here in the castle. Going unprotected into rain or snow is enough to drive a man as mad as if he's in the dark amongst the horde.

Finally, we emerge from the gallery, and almost reflexively, I turn my head to the side, to look past the battlements at the grounds below. As always, the supposedly expansive lawns are shrouded in a gloom so deep I cannot so much as see the path that once led to a town. Instantly upon looking below I am reminded of the darkness of a widow's bedchamber, of last twilight's gloom, of the funeral shadows dwelling in a tomb. More disquieting still, to my eye it seems as though the shadows are moving, doubtless under control of whatever force compels the horde to walk. I hear, or imagine, the faint sounds of struggle, of something fighting to break free – perhaps, even so close, the horde is lurking… Determinedly, I direct my gaze forward and hold Ganondorf's arm more tightly.

My eyes are burning with fatigue; I close them for a moment, rubbing them gently in an attempt to stave off the inevitable. That does nothing to stop the syrupy feeling of weariness from stealing over my body, though. I want so badly to sleep, but I can't let my mind rest, not even for a second.

From a distance, I see two torches flickering as faintly as hope before my eyes. I mistake the flames for some magic spell impervious to the black rain until I see the nondescript tarp stretched like an awning over the two guards that hold them. Only as we near our destination do I see the other things: the bored and miserable way the soldiers slouch as they wait for us, the ragged condition of the tarp, and one other…the one thing that drove us to the roof this night. When I finally notice the sodden, ragged creature the soldiers are bracketing, a chill races itself down my spine.

I know why we have met here now. Ganondorf's cozy audience chamber might have been a sweeter setting, but we've tasted disappointment too many times to risk being burned there again; the roof will work just as well if we have found the third at last. And if this supplicant should prove to be lying like the others… In the face of shame, my husband is implacable, unsympathetic, and utterly without mercy.

As we approach, one of the soldiers calls out a feeble challenge that falters when they notice the king. "Your Grace!" they say in unison when we stop in front of them under the dubious protection of the tarp, lowering their eyes respectfully. Never paying me the least bit of attention, one says, "This is the one you wished to see."

My heart freezes when I look at her. A girl, she is a girl, and no older than I am. She is pale, hollow and gaunt, wearing the roughspun gown of a commoner. Her hair is lank and unwashed, her eyes watery, flicking suspiciously from side to side as if searching for a means of escape. I know her face well. She is a serving girl from the kitchens, and no hero.

If Ganondorf is battling similar emotions, his face does not betray it; he gives the girl the merest cursory glance before saying, "So, you are the one who performed…acts of valor…in the great hall a moon's turn ago." His dark upper lip curls.

"That's so." The girl smiles, revealing a mouth full of crooked teeth. Her gown is damp and discolored from the rain and sweat gleams on her forehead. "They said I was blessed by the goddesses after I saved one of the kitchen boys, and he wasn't complaining none, so I thought it might be true."

"Many men have said the very same thing to me over the years. All of them were liars. Do you have proof of your claim, girl?"

"Aye. The proof is in my blood." The girl gives us a ragged grin, but I can see the sweat shining on her forehead. "You can see I tell the truth with the taste of a drop of my blood, I know. Isn't that the way of it?"

"That is the way," Ganondorf allows, every word methodical and precise. "It takes more Power than you could comprehend for the princess to exert herself this way, however, and I dislike wasting our resources. This is the last chance you have to turn back, girl. You'd best pray to the goddesses that your claim is true, because I'll kill you by inches if you lie."

The girl gives me a nervous glance. "Begging your royal pardon, but the princess doesn't frighten me none. I tell it true, I do so swear."

"As you wish." After a while, he turns to look at me with Din's eyes, impatient, implacable, distant. "Zelda, the dagger."

My hands – soft, stupid, clumsy hands – reach up my sleeve and withdraw the ceremonial dagger. I look down at the falling rain reflected on the flat of the steel blade, considering all the times before I've drawn this blade for the purpose of letting blood, trying to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. I've done this thing too many times, in truth.

The goddess Nayru bequeathed me with Wisdom upon my birth, but that alone is not enough. Other people were gifted with Wisdom in easier times, and they could not stem the dark's flow. I am also, as Ganondorf calls me, a channeler – able to give and receive each of the three Virtues that hold the dark at bay, and able to sense their presence in others. But my ability hinges on bloodmagic, the most Powerful and dangerous of the gifts allowed us. Ganondorf styled me as a princess when he discovered I knew the way of it. Others attainted me as a witch and tried to kill me, before Ganondorf rooted them up from the rest of our court and gave them to the dark.

I know what Ganondorf is waiting for me to do; I've delayed it long enough. Smothering my mingled dread and anticipation, I remove one of my gloves and take Ganondorf's hand in my newly bared hand, flesh against callused flesh, Wisdom against Power. My knees weaken and for a moment, I want nothing more than to wallow in that feeling. I try to concentrate on something else, on the cruel curve his mouth makes as I lay the edge of the dagger against his hand, on the curve of his palm under my weapon as I guide it across the scarred skin. Ganondorf sneers.

Often it feels like our two lives are balanced on the edge of this blade. There is always sweetness to our pain, sharpness to our joy… As quickly as that, the cut is made. I look down at Ganondorf's blood, dark on the edge of the dagger, as he pulls free of my grip unflinching. Without even looking at him, I know what he's waiting for now. Almost unthinkingly, I draw the knife down my own palm, too mesmerized by the sight of red blooming amongst my own scars to feel the pain.

Half-blind from the sheer pleasure and disorientation of it all, I grab Ganondorf's hand and press our wounds together. I nearly flinch away, nearly gasp; it's too close, too intense, entirely too much. The dread that I felt earlier now feels like some half-forgotten dream. I can feel the goddesses' holy energy flowing through my veins, pulsing agonizingly at the place where our wounds are joined. I am aglow with energy and Power. For what feels like the first moment in a lifetime of moments, I am _alive_.

Before I realize just what has happened, Ganondorf wrestles the dagger from my hand. I imagine I can _feel_ the girl being cut as we are cut, as vividly as I hear her cry out in pain. My head is swimming to the degree that I barely feel like I'm on the roof at all.

Now Ganondorf pulls completely away from me, his part done. Bereft, I reach out for the girl, somehow unable to move towards her. "Come here," I whisper thickly, already lost in the rush of psychic sensation. After a pause, the guards attending the girl nudge her forward so that she falls to her knees before me. Carefully we clasp hands, me entwining my fingers with hers as gently I tear into her…

A lifetime of memories flash before my eyes in a single moment, so fast and furious that they seem more like fractions than anything that could cohere into a recognizable timeline. Skies that are black, dark gray, the peculiar pearl-white of sunrise, a kitchen boy's hand on my shoulder, hand on my hand, hand leading me through the hallways to a place where we can indulge in our mutual longing for motion and heat. That same kitchen boy, his face turning a mottled sort of purple, then pink again after he coughs up an obstruction with my help. That kitchen boy once more, telling me by candlelight to seek appointment by the king. Obscuring any meaning from those memories is a shroud of sadness…sadness that I suddenly feel so strongly that it's all I can do to keep from sobbing.

And nothing else. The goddesses haven't heard my prayer.

Dreamily, I open my eyes. Still I'm lost in silent contemplation, barely noticing the tears coursing down my cheeks.

As if from a great distance, I finally hear Ganondorf's voice. Realizing the importance of his words, I try to focus my attention more solidly upon him, try to banish the last of my psychic afterglow. "Zelda. What did you feel?"

_She is not the one._ There are the words, as deadly and stark as shadows. Yet Ganondorf does not stir, so I know the sound of them hasn't risen above the fierce thudding of my heart. I fear to speak; I am no murderer, and this is just as good as that. But I have a duty to protect my small kingdom as well, a responsibility that drowns out the bitter taste of the words as they finally rise from my throat. "There is…" I shake my head, unable to look at any of them. "I feel nothing. She has not the Courage."

The girl's eyes open wide. "You are _lying_!" she spits, a fine trembling nevertheless running up and down the length of her body. She turns those eyes, such sad eyes, on my husband. "Make her tell the truth. Tell her, I swear it by my life, I'm not—"

Ganondorf's jaw clenches. He gives her a vicious backhand slap and the girl's head snaps to the side as she takes the blow. Fresh blood glistens on his already soiled hand.

I watch, feeling queerly detached, as the spot where Ganondorf struck the girl turns an angry red. She tries to run, darting both left and right, though she's stopped both times by the very force of Ganondorf's stare. "Take this lying bitch in hand before she hurts herself," he says. From behind us, the two soldiers who were holding torches earlier come forward and take the girl by the arms before she can go more than two paces.

A sick feeling has built in my stomach. I look at Ganondorf anxiously, wondering what he will do, but his face is hard and unreadable.

"Throw her to the dark," he finally says; his voice is no more than a hair above a whisper, a funereal murmur. "Throw her to the horde. Let her Courage shield her, if it can."

"_No_!" the girl screams furiously. She struggles against the viselike holds the soldiers have on her to no avail. The guards pull her, squirming and resisting, to the battlements. All the while, I watch the execution by the side of my husband. Below us, the shadows are screaming, sending up a high keening wail full of hunger and anger and malice.

Bodily, the soldiers force the girl to stand at a gap between the crenels, the better to throw her to her death. The girl is weeping, screaming vile curses. Then she is gone…flying head over heels as our guards throw her over the crenels, sending her tumbling down into the dark.

The screaming of the shadows turns triumphant. My mind cringes, doesn't want to hear. Nevertheless, the girl's screaming soon joins that of the shadows, until the entire cacophony sounds like a long lament full of agony to the goddesses above.

When the shadows finally fall silent, I sink to my knees on the roof in my exhaustion. Ganondorf kneels beside me and lays his bloody hand on my shoulder. We are quiet for a time, him thinking thoughts I'll never know while I let the ceaseless fall of the cold black rain wash my sluggish blood away.

--

I dream of my father.

He was a king, they say, but I don't remember him at all. If ever there were portraits of him, they were lost to the dark. "He was mad," Ganondorf told me the first time I asked about him. "Your gift wasn't long hidden after your mother gave birth to you. A witch, they called you when you saved them. He would have killed you himself had we not risen and thrown him to the horde. I saved your life. You must never take the fact that you are here for granted, Zelda."

I never have. Daily I kneel in pious prayer to thank the goddesses for allowing me to keep my life, for allowing me the chance to protect my people. I can't forget what I've done and what's been done for me, can't allow myself the relief. That knowledge must be nurtured, picked-at, cherished, guarded. What I've done is more than my father ever did, Ganondorf says. He never cared one whit for his people when the shadows began to engulf them, not so much as lifting a finger to ease their suffering. He never underwent any supreme hardship for the sake of his kingdom, as I have… I feel righteous superiority flood me, and I'm powerless to stop it.

"Ravings," my father says suddenly. Sometimes his face is Ganondorf's, or that of other men I've known, but tonight he appears younger and comelier than any of them. His expression is still and he appears without ornament, nevertheless sitting above me proud as a king in some celestial throne room. He looks down his nose at me as he continues, "Will you listen to what a bastard king tells you, child? He wed you while you were still in the cradle."

Shame washes over me in waves so strong that the stress of my waking moments seems a mere squall. I want to say something, anything to make the contempt bleed from his voice, but no words will come. I can't say anything he'll take ill. I can't face the judgment he'll surely pass on me. Instead I look down at the rushes and say nothing.

He continues on, oblivious. "I see he has you bewitched as ever. Tell me, if the goddesses gifted you with such Wisdom, why are you not able to see and excise the greatest threat that cleaves to you? How it shames me to see such…filth in my father's proud halls."

"He saved my life," I tell him. The slightest bit of heat has crept into my voice and I'm immediately remorseful. This isn't how a daughter speaks to a father. This isn't how a girl speaks to a _king_.

Finally, my father deigns to look at me. I want to seep into the stones, want to escape the emotions that have overcome me: shame, agitation, sickness. His eyes are even worse than Ganondorf's; they are the same color as my own, yet appear as blue glass instead of liquid, reflecting disgust and faint anger. _You've forgotten your place,_ that look says. _You've forgotten who you are._ _Why are you here?_

"He saved your life, that's true enough," my father says at last, "but you are a fool if you think his motives were pure. Is he some altruist, to save Hyrule's princess without want of reward? Is that what you think? His kind has been killing Hylians since the beginning of time. No, he _saved_ you because he had need of your sickness or your maidenhood, most likely both."

I feel a flush creep unbidden up my neck. Not even Ganondorf has spoken to me so frankly; it is galling beyond the scope of words to hear such things from my father. My shame turns into anger, turns into words. "You're wrong. He's never touched me. He never has! And…and…you have Wisdom yourself. How is my gift something worth hating me for?"

"Your _mother_ had Wisdom, before the midwife cut you out of her. But she didn't have your deformity. A king must be a wolf, but only a hedge wizard is fit to serve as a channel for the blessings of greater men. The goddesses were singularly cruel to visit that curse upon one such as you, girl."

"Zelda! My name is _Zelda_!"

"Why should I use it? You are no daughter of mine, so long as you cling to your shortcomings. You must understand, when the darkness came, it was not my wish to kill you – only to cull the sickness from your body. If your shadow king had not given me to his subjects, things might have turned out quite differently."

I'm trembling from my rage, so much so that what my father has said goes almost completely unheard. Almost as frustrating as him is the fact that I can never say to him what I want to. No matter how many times I face him in this dreamscape, some lingering passivity pins me to failure, declaring my father the victor he could not be in life. Why… "Why…" I whisper as tears burn at the corners of my eyes, "I saved you. All your lives, it was me…why do you do this?"

"You saved me as much as you saved your mother," he says coldly. "You are freakish, and worse, _inept_. How many lives have been lost due to your negligence, simply because you didn't understand how to harness the ability your curse grants you? Perhaps I bear some of the blame for that. I am your sire—"

"You're not." My anger flares. "You'll never be."

His nostrils flare at my daring. "You will not speak to me so. I am your king."

"You misremember. _Ganondorf_ is king."

"Aye, he is king. He is the king of shadows. He is the Twilight King." He sneers. "Let him enjoy his spoils while he can. Where is your third, girl? Already I see the shadows creeping into your dungeons. Without Courage, you two will cower in your castle until the dark claims you as it has the rest of us, mark my words."

Now it's my turn to burn with indignation. "We will never face the same fate as you; that I promise you."

"A bold promise that, doubtless, you'll never be able to fulfill. We were wolves and could not stave off the end for all that. Wisdom alone is not enough to sustain you; you need Courage to act upon your desires and Power to make them reality, but Power is temperamental, and Courage elusive. You will never find the third among these scared sheep you call courtiers. Why, girl, are you so confident you'll survive?"

"Because I am your daughter." I have to laugh at the absurdity of it all. "I am your daughter…your daughter…Father, look at me!"

I reach for his arm – crossing the distance in half a heartbeat – and press my fingers into the softness of his tunic, longing to make him hurt. Just the touch is enough, I realize too late. My father yells a curse as this dream shatters into pieces as fractured as my thoughts – and then I wake with a start, shivering in the dark while tears stream down my face.

Before my handmaid, dreaming soundlessly at the foot of my bed, can hear my sobs I turn on my side and press my lips together, determined to rid myself of the memory of his voice. I try to tell myself that he wasn't real, that my father died a long time ago, but that doesn't help any more than it ever has. Slowly, I unclench my fists and bring a palm to my mouth, tasting the shallow half-moons of blood where my nails broke the skin in my sleep.

I wish that I was stronger, sheathed in steel. I wish that I could ignore the empty place inside of me that longs for my father's approval, but I never can. I am a weak reed. I am just as soft and pathetic as my dreams portray me. How can I be anything more, when I weep at the merest glancing vocal barb, when I simply stand aside as yet another attainted supplicant is thrown to the shadows? How can I be anything more when the reflection that stares back at me in the looking glass is that of a pallid cowed girl, unable to bear the weight placed on her shoulders?

What does Ganondorf see in me?

What does anyone see in me?

I'll never rid myself of the specter of my father. He doomed Hyrule to the dark, but he was a king as well. He was a wolf. Surely that will be kinder than what history will say of me.


	2. Symbiosis

Hi! I wrote the bulk of this story over two years ago, and it's kinda become my baby, haha. It's not terribly long, and more focused on the characters than the plot, though that was probably apparent from the first chapter. I'm unsure if I will continue writing once I'm done 100% with this story, but I would appreciate any feedback you have to give. Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

--

Some say my coming brought the dark. Others name a rogue wizard the culprit; others still some thoughtless and ignorant commoner, while the more pious blame Hyrule's wickedness for the goddesses' disfavor. I myself could not begin to guess, because in truth no one knows.

Dark was innocuous, once, though it is hard for me to imagine it as such. Night brought with it dark as day brought light, and both influences were considered equal by all…but that balance was tenuous. Death and danger lurked in shadows even then, where murderers and thieves could ply their trade without reproach – pitiable creatures all but unknown to us behind Hyrule Castle's forbidding walls, and considered little more than an isolated threat to the stupid and foolhardy by our ancestors.

Yet even for them, the threat of the horde was real. For centuries baleful shadows have lurked in the woods lost to the south of us. The children who lived in the trees, quick and clever, were all but unaffected by the influence, but men could not trample the virgin growth there without consequence. The shadows beneath the forest canopy changed men, giving them strange appetites. They came back to their towns as shambling skeletons, yet were fueled with both otherworldly strength and bestial hunger…often ending up condemned to the executioner's scaffold more often than not.

Then all was changed. The sunset-bathed lands to the west, where my husband once ruled as lord, were in a day's time cloaked in shadows of unknown origin. "It should have killed us, but we did not die," Ganondorf explained to me. "Instead, my people were changed…transformed into the horde you know now, the goddesses' disapproval made flesh." He would have ended up the same, had he not exerted his Power to save himself. The people he once ruled, unable to breach his protections, made him prisoner and submitted him to tortures he's never revealed to me as the shadows continued their glacial progress towards the king's seat.

Rumors of the deed spread across Hyrule – first denied, then embraced with blind panic as death loomed on the black horizon. Soon even my father, far removed behind his chaste castle walls, was forced to attaint the lands to the west. Suspended in horror, knowing the inevitability of what was coming for them, our citizenry enacted all manner of plots to escape the fate of their western neighbors. Those with the coin boarded ships in the hopes of finding asylum in distant lands, while the less well-off crowded the goddesses' temples by the thousands to pray for clemency or quaffed bitter potions in hopes of magic protection – but none of that made any matter to the indiscriminate dark. All were corrupted by its touch, from child to crone.

Ganondorf says the dark had swallowed most of our verdant land before my birth, and it was only the coming of my Wisdom that preserved the kingdom's last stronghold for as long as it did. For months the survivors cowered in Hyrule Castle's highest towers, waiting a silent vigil for the feeble sun, while the dark climbed up with sinuous fingers from below. Then my husband broke free of the shackles of the horde that dogged him and, through the force of his Power, banished the screaming shadows from our crenels.

After a long pause, Ganondorf opens my shutters. Dust motes float lazily in the shafts of weak sunlight slanting through the window. From where I sit on my bed, the light seems too dim, somehow frightening. "Dawn has come." His voice is so soft, a strand above a whisper.

I say nothing. I know I should feel some relief at the sight, but I can't dredge up the emotion; our days are brief, and we are not even free of the menace of shadows during them. During all the time I've lived, the sun has only rarely shown itself from behind the bank of sullen clouds that comprise our sky.

My mind drifts to him at that. Ganondorf stands by the window still, looking out at the shadowy grounds with an unfathomable expression on his face. What does he see when dawn comes – failure, dread? He's older than I by a score of years or more, has known day and dark in ways that I never will. Once, he tried to explain what his days were like, when I was not so timid as to fear asking him questions. "Not like this," he said, almost bitterly. "There were none of these late dawns, and days were often so hot that women would prefer to go garbed in cotton – or silk, if they could afford it. And sunlight, sunlight was not near as gray and paltry as this. Look at me. Look at my eyes." He grabbed me by the arms then to force my attention upon him, his grip so tight that I felt as if in a vise. "_This_ is true sunlight, Zelda…or as close to it as you'll ever know. Now do you understand?"

I didn't, though I lied and said I did. I still don't. And yet, to experience true sunlight for myself – oh, the day! Yet I fear the advent of such a moment, fear the moment when our strength grows to such that we'll win remission from the dark for a year or a day or an hour. What will happen to us then? Will we spend the rest of our lives expending energy in fruitless struggle, chasing after another taste? Will our hearts be filled with thoughts of endless golden daytime sky?

"Close the shutters." The sharp voice takes me by surprise. Only after a few moments do I realize that it's my own. "I don't want to look on that today."

"As you wish." Ganondorf closes the shutters without another word, throwing the room back into bleak shadow. He sighs, sounding ever regretful and weary. "Zelda, I sense you are not pleased with me."

"It's not you." I bring my knees to my chest. I don't know why I'm going to tell him this…Ganondorf is near emotionless in my eyes, and has been less than receptive when I've admitted such things to him before. "It's my father. I dream of him, every night after an execution. He's a terror, he—"

"Harkinian, that milquetoast?" Ganondorf says sharply. "Put him out of your head, Zelda. During his reign, he was incapable of threatening so much as a fly. He was considered toothless by all his lords. It's only fitting that he should think to become a terror in baseless dreams."

"You've told me that before. I know it well. It's just…"

"Just?"

"If my father was as weak as you claim, why did you bend the knee to him for all those years? He must have been a good ruler at some point, to have preserved peace until the dark came. In my dreams, he calls himself a wolf. Wolf or not, you must have recognized his strength, to have bent the knee to him."

"A wolf? You might have been right about that once, I'll allow that. But what does that mean to us now? Your father is dead and gone." With that, Ganondorf turns to the closed window once more. He must be more upset than he's willing to show. "The dark grows closer in proximity. Perhaps you should worry less about your father and more about that."

The rebuke is pointed enough that it brings tears to my eyes. I blink them away and look down at my hands, saying nothing. It was foolish of me to think Ganondorf would speak to me kindly about this. What did I expect, anyway? My sick, manic nightmares are as nothing to him.

"You understand little and less of the ways of politics, Zelda." He turns back towards me, his face an impassive mask. "I bent the knee to your father not in recognition of his strength, but in refusal to engage in war. Another war would have meant the end of Hyrule, had the dark not done for us first. You see…sometimes you must merely nod and bite your tongue when faced with the threat of a weak man's strong army."

"_Another_ war?" That takes me aback. "I had…I had forgotten about the other one."

"You didn't forget. I never told you."

"Are you telling me now?"

"There was never a need for you to know. But…" He sighs again. "Long before you were born, a war waged between Hyrule and the west. Over a family heirloom, I was told when I was no older than you. When my father was cut down in battle, it fell to me to set things aright. Your father had the stronger army and I was weak, I must admit it. By bending the knee before the king, however, I managed to secure peace. A Wise man knows that there is a queer sort of strength to be found in admitting defeat."

I sit silently for a moment, trying to glean some hurt from the words. Eventually my thoughts resolve around the larger meaning behind Ganondorf's speech. "Your people fought against the kingdom once. You fought against my _father_ once, and would have continued doing so had you not been so weak. Wouldn't you? Why are you trying to save it now?"

Ganondorf snorts. "The destruction of the kingdom was never the goal. Are you a princess or a girl, to think such folly? My father wanted to be king. What good is a barren wasteland of a kingdom to rule over? And furthermore, what good is putting those you love most in deadly danger for the sake of some crown and hard chair? Keep this in mind, Zelda: I am not my father. Just the fact that I came to _your_ father with peace terms should prove that. And again, I say, what does it matter? Those days are long since past. We are both trying our damnedest to save the kingdom as it is now. That's all that matters."

I feel an acute guilt that intensifies the longer that Ganondorf speaks. By the time he finishes, I can barely stand to look at him. "I'm sorry," I say meekly. "Every time I dream of my father, I can't help but think about what Hyrule was like before I was born. I didn't mean to give offense…"

"Nor could you." He sounds very tired. When I look up, I see him crossing the distance between us, sitting down next to me on the edge of my bed. He touches my hair, his unnerving yellow gaze meeting my own. "You are as beautiful as you are Wise, Zelda. I can't fault you for being curious. But you must accept that some things are best left in the past." His touch moves from my hair, trickling down the side of my face and throat.

I can't help but give a gasp. "You scared me," I manage to say. _You scare me_, I wish I could say. For this moment, I am mesmerized by the sight of his eyes. They stare upon me dispassionately, yet are frightening beyond the scope of words in their very absence of emotion. I feel as if I am drowning, on the cusp of death and unable to propel myself to the surface.

Ganondorf never answers me. His fingers find rest on my collarbone, rubbing back and forth and back and forth over the contour until the skin there stings with Power. I feel an answering hunger deep inside me, a sudden desire to move, to cry out. Instead I hold my tongue, feeling far too powerless to act on any of my impulses.

I hold my silence as his touch drifts lower. He parts the top of my nightgown and casually guides his fingertips over the bared skin, over the tops of my breasts, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The longer he touches me, the stronger I feel Power's influence within me, nearly equal to Wisdom now. I want nothing more than to exert myself in whatever way that's possible…but both Wisdom and fear hold me back. I know better than to interrupt whatever plan Ganondorf has for me.

Power wells in me as if released from some spring, wild and untamed. When Ganondorf strokes me now, it's not his hand that I'm feeling. Instead it's his strength that I feel, a body that even in stillness has the potential to unleash a bestial Power. A hundred battles flash through my mind's eye – real or imagined, it makes no matter – and in each one I emerge as the victor. Triumph gnaws at me.

His hand finally makes as if to touch my breast and freezes. Power pulses divinely between us, yet beneath his touch, part of me shudders at the thought of what's to come. He wed me when I was a babe in arms, solidifying his undisputed claim to the throne, but he's never touched me even after all these years. Not…not like this.

Despite all my posturing, I am safe, I know. Not for us the dubious joy of consummation; we must both remain celibate as sages should we hope to sustain our magic powers, lest the clarity of our minds be muddled by thoughts of lowly flesh. I cannot allow myself to be subject to a man's lust.

Ganondorf looms over me, his dominance unquestionable. I curl myself against his encroaching body like a fist and close my eyes, wishing that I could fathom what desires lie within his heart. I press my ear against his chest and try to memorize the steady, ancient rhythm of his heart. And I whisper frantically to my racing heart: Slower, calmer! Like his, like that.

No sooner have I thought the words than his desperation claws at me, wild and loose, savaging and tearing like some monstrous beast. In its wake I feel a hunger that clings to me, cleaves to me, returns to me like a wound that's never really healed. When he finally takes my breast in hand, gently squeezing, a part of me rejoices. I give a small moan, the slightest whisper of encouragement…but he doesn't move his hand, not so much as to fondle me again.

I am near-delirious with the dizzying dual sensations of Power and Wisdom mingling within me. I wallow in the honeyed sensations for what seems an eternity, until I move to finally touch Ganondorf in his turn. My fingertips graze his cheek and I sigh, lost in contentment, fantasizing about the image of us entwined, wanting to drain him of Power such that he appears smaller, and smaller, a husk of the man he once was, hunched and still over my form.

And then the connection is broken. I am catapulted back into my body with unseemly violence, the force leaving me frightened and gasping, trembling in the sudden absence of Power. Ganondorf hovers above me, as before, but he isn't touching me any longer. There's a horrible look in his eyes that, combined with the livid expression on his face, makes me feel even weaker than I already am before him. "_No_."

I struggle to catch my breath. "Ganondorf, what is it?" I reach for his hand, the hand that had been on my breast, still feeling slow and unsteady. My voice sounds weak, so terribly low and weak. "If I gave offense—"

"_No_, I said." He jerks out of my grasp, giving me a steely cold shoulder as he pulls himself free of me. The rejection feels like a slap. I lay still in bed in the position he molded me into as he rises free of bed, straightening his clothes, his face furious for no reason that I can ascertain.

Now I know what he means to do. "Don't go." I rise and pull myself free of my bed, pleading with him in the semidarkness of my bedchamber. I don't know why I'm doing this – a Wiser girl would certainly allow Ganondorf to go and work off his frustrations. Yet I cannot help myself for having the compulsion. Suddenly I want nothing more than to finish what Ganondorf started. I reach out for his arm as he turns to go. "Don't go! Stay."

Ganondorf looks over his shoulder, first at the arm I hold, then at me. There is nothing in that gaze but contempt and barely stifled rage. "What don't you understand, Zelda?" he hisses at me. "When I said no, I meant it. You must learn to control your passions before they overwhelm you."

His gaze freezes me in place, stunning me to the degree that I am powerless to stop him from escaping from my grasp again. He crosses the distance from where we stand to the door in ten quick paces and opens the door, slamming it shut behind him as he exits.

Finally, I am alone. My husband's chosen to reject his passion for now, but how long will it last? I feel as if I'm choking on my fear, and there aren't even shadows to share it with. It won't be long until he visits me again.

--

It's dark. I walk through the hallways on slippered feet, hot wax splashing onto my fingers from the candle that I hold. The pain from that seems a minor annoyance compared to the hunger tearing through my middle. My thoughts now resolve around how good it will feel to see Ganondorf once more, clasp hands with him, and indulge in the exchange of Wisdom and Power that will bring such sweet relief. I pity those who know nothing of this sort of hunger. I envy them.

I hear Ganondorf before I see him. He's playing a song on his organ, some ghostly funeral dirge, the notes of which echo forcefully through this wing of the castle. The song choice cannot be a mere coincidence; the absence of Wisdom _can_ feel like a living death, as I know all too well. The thought sends a chill down my spine.

The sound grows louder as I approach, but the rest of the castle sleeps. Just the thought of how I was roused from my bed by my painful, desperate hunger while all others sleep makes me envious all over again. Abed, lost in fitful dreams, I could _hear_ Ganondorf crying out to me half a castle away and that was the end of dreaming for the rest of the night. I thought that he would come to me, but I was wrong. Instead he would have me come to him, almost as if he _wants_ to put me into my place…

Eventually, once the sound of the song has become too loud to bear, I come upon a nondescript door. There are no guards here; anyone foolish enough to try to harm my husband knows that they would not long outlive him, should they succeed in felling him. I knock on the door quickly during a pause in his playing and feel my heart jump into my throat when he calls out, "Enter!"

I find Ganondorf doing what I knew he would be doing, playing the organ with the utmost tenderness. He looks my way as the door opens, his expression betraying no eagerness. "Zelda, it's good to see you." Calmly, he stops playing and draws away from the instrument.

I stand in the opened doorway for a long moment, feeling awkward and unsure, the candle in my hand burning low. My hunger has all but disappeared at the very sight of him. "Ganondorf, it's late. What would you have of me?"

"I'll get to that in due time. Sit down first, you must be exhausted. Would you care for some wine?" Ganondorf stands.

I put the candle down on a table piled high with parchments and take the offered cup of wine Ganondorf hands me. This will be easier if I'm slightly drunk myself, I know. I down half the glass in a swallow as I look around the room, trying to pay attention to anything other than my husband. Aside from the organ, Ganondorf's bedchamber is as humble as my own. The organ ostentatiously takes up near an entire wall, while a small bed is pushed against the opposite one. Wilting rushes cover the floor in place of carpets, and the only chair in the room is piled high with rolls of parchments itself, prayers and recitations from earlier times meant to increase our knowledge of the dark. I edge around it, uneasy.

Resting near the organ is his sword. Sheathed in plain leather, it is nevertheless a strange piece of steel. The blade is the smoky gray color of the horde, sharp enough to shear lesser swords, and as far as I know, has never been swung in anger within these castle walls. Though its presence is likely intended for the opposite purpose, just the thought of it increases my unease.

My head is spinning. Taking it as a sign, I set the wine cup – all but empty now – down as well. "What would you have of me?" I ask again, my voice thickened by the drink.

Ganondorf speaks as if I had said nothing at all. "Zelda, have you ever considered need?"

The question catches me off-guard. "Need?" I repeat uneasily.

"Yes, need. I have thought on it all day." He pauses, running his fingers through his thinning hair. "Consider the need of a prisoner who longs to see his home again. Sometimes he can almost see himself striding across the familiar fields of his land, until he remembers that he languishes in some dank dungeon a thousand leagues away. Or, more to the point, consider the need that accompanies hunger. All you can think on is the satiety and promise of fullness when you hunger. Ignore the urge for too long, and you will be as weak as any unbloodied boy."

As Ganondorf talks, I battle a longing of my own. Being in such close proximity to my husband makes me feel…I don't even know what I feel. But I know what's coming. How can I not, when Ganondorf called me to his bedchamber so late, so secretly? "Hunger is a terrible thing," I say quietly, praying that my voice won't break.

"…Terrible in its full-blown form, yet craved even in its absence. Hunger is sometimes the only way we know we're alive. Long have I hungered, Zelda. There is a hunger deep within me that I must sate, I will admit it." He gives me a pointed look. "I have need of your Wisdom this night."

For a moment I feel as if I have not heard. "I cannot," I finally manage to say, my voice sounding as hollow and weak as I feel in his presence. "Not now, Ganondorf." I hurl his name like a curse.

He whispers my name like a prayer, curling the echo of it sweetly around words I find harder to accept. "Yes, now. I did not wait so long to have you again to be denied. I could have had your life, but I spared you instead. Do you remember? Zelda?"

I remember, I must admit to myself; he is not the sort of man to be denied. His skin seems to glow with Power and an odd sort of Courage, a combination declared anathema by men without count. I believed that, once, before he taught me better. Now their very presence fills me with hunger.

That feeling sweeps over me without warning, building upon itself, consuming me like a plague, and like a throb between my legs it's sexual in its allure. I try to shield myself from it, still hiding. My back connects with the wall sharply and my body grows tense with animal fear. The child in me wants to run, but I know I never could. I need him, loath as I am to admit it; we are hopelessly entwined in the ancient struggle that will outlive us for years without count. Without him I would be lost. I cannot turn my back on him now.

"I remember," I finally say, immediately hating myself for the words yet helpless to stop their flow. "Come here."

He approaches me now, imperceptibly growing closer; my fevered mind can barely track his progress. His yellow eyes by contrast are sharp with sly intelligence, crawling up and down me as if I am prey, burning their gaze into my frame with almost painful intensity. In the face of that stare I can feel my willpower fleeing, escaping me to cower in the withered rushes beneath my slippers. Doubtless I am common and plain to him, a pale pretender, weak and ineffectual. He is magnificent.

He takes me by the shoulders before I fall; I am swooning, I realize with slightly embarrassed anger. He feels so warm against me, his Power so temptingly close – and it is only now that I realize he is waiting for what I must do. With a trembling hand, I touch his face, concentrating on the feeling of scratchy stubble beneath my fingertips. Concentrating on all the times I've done this before with the sole intent of making what's his mine. I let out a heady sound of need as I close my eyes and reach into him with the uniquely Hylian magic gifted to me by the goddesses, searching for the very essence of his being.

Against me, Ganondorf groans – whether in agony or ecstasy I can't tell – and bites down on the skin of my shoulder hard to stifle his cry. I never feel the pain. Instead I am consumed by the feeling of Wisdom and Power joining, a sensation so intense that it slices like a sword and caresses like a lover. This is no anathema, to be reviled by wise men, but instead something cherished, nurtured, praised by gentle and rude alike since time immemorial. This is a sweeter joining by far than any other, I think deliriously as I ride the magic high – until I am abruptly forced free of his body, gasping and wet when I crawl back into my own.

Finally, he lets go of me. I can't hide the tears on my face, can't master the overwhelming guilt I feel. It's not supposed to be like this. It's not supposed to feel this good.


	3. Obeisance

The day has dawned bright and cold, the pale sun lighting the towers of the castle and throwing the grounds into somewhat lighter shadow. I watch by Ganondorf's side in the yard as our garrison forms orderly ranks, our guardsmen gather by the gate, and as serving girls appear bearing baskets of pallid flower petals from my private courtyard. For once, the castle walls ring with boisterous noise, even laughter; such things have been suspicious strangers to us for years. Even I feel far removed from my usual lethargic state. My eyes drift from our small group of knights to our privy boys, all hard at work; the day won't wait, and this…_celebration_…must be done as soon as possible.

Long have Ganondorf and I waited for this day. For so long as I have been alive, we have thought ourselves the sole survivors of the shadows' rampage, alone against the threat. Now, to receive news that we are not…it's more than I ever expected or even hoped to wish for.

Doubtless, though, I am over-thinking my part in things. Although I've accompanied my husband in his solar many nights, standing at his side while he penned letters to these supplicants, I only have the barest understanding of what will happen today and the events that brought it about. My ignorance galls me, for the novel appearance of newcomers has left me feeling apprehensive as well as excited. I wish that I could be more certain about this…

The intensity of Ganondorf's stare upon me is enough to draw me from my dreamy haze. "Do not slouch," he orders in a tone that brooks no argument. He places a hand just above the place where my girdle has forced my spine into rigid alignment, coaxing my shoulders back. "I will not have our guests think lowly of my court."

Despite his stern words, I thrill at his touch…and then Ganondorf pulls back. I give him a cursory glance. "You've decided, then? They will be our guests?"

"No. No; it would not do to waste our resources on even more useless mouths. I agreed to this meeting only to gauge their strength. They will be made to leave if they cannot prove their worth; that I promise you…but if our correspondence has been any indication, there will be no need for that. I am not without mercy, Zelda." Yet all I can think of is the face of the girl we executed, the triumphant ululations of the screaming shadows as they fed below us.

Somehow, I find the courage to voice my concerns. "But you didn't show mercy _before_…" I say, giving the final word a subtle emphasis that he'll be sure to hear.

Ganondorf looks down sharply at me – as if he's as surprised at my daring as I am. "Zelda," he says. There's the merest hint of warmth in his voice now, which is enough to persuade me to lower my eyes and hold my tongue.

After an eternity or an hour, a warhorn sounds from outside our gates; its sound seems so pure and sweet after a lifetime of listening to the horde's murmuring. The sound goes on and on until it's almost too much to bear, then finally fades as the guardsmen at the gate move into action. My heart leaps into my throat as the portcullis lifts with a rusted squeal. Now in come the refugees, their orderly line seeming endless to my eyes yet in truth only a score long at best. They are all ahorse, each one dressed in the black armor of the horde with sooty cloaks hanging from their shoulders. Though none can be older than thirty, their faces are weathered and lined; doubtless they have lived harder lives in the dark than we have in the castle. Our serving girls move forward at Ganondorf's signal, throwing the petals of moonflowers in the refugees' path. The whiteness seems so stark and delicate against the black they wear, even more so when their horses' hooves trample them in the mud.

When the man at their front reaches us, he dismounts and bends the knee before his king. I look down at him curiously. He is blonde and beardless, younger than the others, and so pale he looks half a corpse in his dress. Perhaps he, too, was a babe at the breast when the dark came to us, as fortunate as me. "King Ganondorf," he says in a voice hoarse with disuse, "I am Link, and these are my brothers. We come from the forest, where we've been protected from the dark for years. But a moon's turn ago, the shadow monsters breached our protections to come for us, and now no place is safe. As your leal people, we plead for your protection."

Ganondorf gives the men gathered behind their spokesman a cursory glance. "How many men do you bring with you, Link?"

"Eighteen." He bites his lip. "We were near forty when we set out for the castle, but the shadow monsters were relentless."

"The horde," Ganondorf says. "You mean the horde."

"The…the horde. As you say." Link nods uncertainly, and looks up at his king as he holds his silence. After a long pause, he blurts, "My king, hear our plea. We have nothing to offer you but the steel in our fists, yet—"

"You have horses as well." Ganondorf looks over them and my eyes follow his. By all counts, they look well-nourished, strong, and none the worse for wear from their trek through the dark…a far cry from the small, skittish mounts our grooms tend to. I know what my husband is thinking even before he says another word. "It seems that your stay in the forest was far more comfortable than you've mentioned."

"My king?" Link looks nonplussed. "The forest was a safe spot once, I will admit that, but it's not safe for horse _or_ Hylian now. The horses are yours, if you desire them, but…"

"I wouldn't rob you of your mounts. What if you had a need to escape from the castle, after all?" Ganondorf smiles tightly. "But you will tell me everything you know about combating the horde. Everything, from the obvious to the minute. Swear it by the goddesses, and my mercy shall be yours."

"I swear it," Link says at once, biting his lip. "I will tell you whatever I may about fighting the horde. By the goddesses above, I do so swear."

"Very well." Ganondorf's smile turns predatory. "The goddess Nayru, in her Wisdom, entreats us to grant those less fortunate our mercy. You and your men were safe once; so you shall be again. Obey and serve, and you may stay in my castle."

"Aye, Your Grace. We shall." Link crosses his fists over his chest, apparently as a sign of deep respect, and then rises at Ganondorf's signal. "You have my eternal gratitude."

Ganondorf's smile fades as quickly as it appeared. "Grooms," he says, and in an instant two boys break from the rank of servants to join us. After giving one of them a curious look, Link hands over the reins of his horse. "See to Link's horse and the horses of his men. Link, you and your men will not lack for comfort; there's meat and ale to be had, and hot water if any of you should desire a bath. Just now, our steward will show you the way to your chambers."

"I…I thank you for your mercy, my king. And I thank you for the meat and ale as well." Link makes a gesture. The men still mounted behind him slide from the backs of their horses, handing over the reins in similar fashion to the grooms who wait on them. Then Ganondorf summons our steward forward, who quickly leads Link and his men toward the castle and their makeshift chambers. The rest of our maids and servants trail after their retreating backs in some mockery of an honor guard, taking the last vestiges of cheerfulness with them.

We are now virtually alone in the yard, only surrounded by a few token guards. Finally Ganondorf allows himself a small smile. "That is how you deal with petitioners at your gate, Zelda," he says in a tone of deep satisfaction.

"I see," I say, somewhat less convinced than Ganondorf. Uninformed though I am, even I can see that what happened here today was a mere show for the sake of our court. The real negotiations had taken place days before in a flurry of exchanged letters.

Ganondorf is quiet for quite some time. I glance over at him to see that his expression has turned thoughtful, almost meditative. "As it turns out, you were right about one thing, Zelda."

"About what?" I ask, ill at ease.

"I am not just merciful on a whim. You see, every single one of those men is a soldier. Fighting for your life requires bravery, even an empty sort of Courage. We've scoured our court for the third for a long time without result. Too long, I'm thinking. Several of these men have a Courageous look about them. Perhaps they will reveal their Virtues to us in time."

Ganondorf's words squeeze around my heart like a vise, though surely I must have expected this. Why else would he accept newcomers into our midst so suddenly, after all? "You can't know that," I blurt before I'm even aware of what I'm saying. "I'm the only who can—"

"Calm yourself. Did I say I knew so for certain? There is no guarantee the men from the shadows will deliver us from this epoch of hardship. But neither is there any reason to doubt it altogether. Sometimes, when the goddesses gift you with something, it can take a long time to decipher the true significance of it. I am patient enough to wait."

There is no harm in trying, I know, especially when circumstances are as dire as ours. Still, something niggles at me. "But suppose one of them is gifted with Courage and _doesn't_ wish to join his cause to ours…"

Ganondorf makes an impatient sound. "You disappoint me, Zelda. Did you learn nothing from the spectacle we engaged in today?"

"I learned enough," I shoot back defensively. "But…I still don't understand what you mean. What makes you so confident that they will obey you, if one of them is the third?"

"Because Courage is bold, impulsive, and above all, _loyal_. Listen to me well. The boy, Link, and his men swore an oath to submit themselves to my protection. They cannot go back on their word now without risking dishonor and death. So this Courageous man that we seek will have a heavy burden on his shoulders should he choose to reveal himself here. Should he defy me and bring down my wroth upon his brothers and friends, or obey and serve while being treated gently? He will serve and obey; I'd stake my life on that." His gaze burns into my skin. "And you know what I expect of you. You must serve as well, Zelda."

I know what he wants of me, but for a long moment I can't bring myself to acquiesce – whether out of pride or fear I cannot say. Finally I kneel in the mud before him and kiss his scarred fingers. "Your Grace," I whisper.

--

Much later – scrubbed clean of the filth from the yard – I sit before my vanity in uncomfortable undergarments and wait anxious for my maid to attend to me. Carefully, I wipe the dust from the looking glass and stare at my reflection. The ever-present dark circles under my eyes seem stark against the pallor of my skin. I'm nervous, I know…but whether the emotion has been brought on by the thought of facing our guests, or something else, I cannot say.

I dread the feast to come; it will be no trifling amusement, but rather a show of our Power, Ganondorf has promised me. Already I am weary; although my husband has schooled me in politics, I've never found relish in such games. What role will I play in his plans tonight? Will I be paraded as a trophy, to be fawned over by our cheerless guests, or must I play the sage, revered and untouchable?

When Roselin finally emerges from my washroom, I nearly jump. Never noticing my upset, she lays one hand on my shoulder and picks up a comb with the other. "Milady will be most beautiful tonight," she promises me as she takes the comb to my damp hair.

I can't help but resent the lie as she combs the tangles from my hair. Fatigue and lethargy have warped me; almost immediately, I am overcome by a wave of self-loathing so strong that I have to keep myself from weeping. I want nothing more than to feign sudden sickness and hide behind the heavy curtains of my canopy. Yet in the end, as oppressive as the weight upon my chest feels, I know that I must not disappoint my husband. I submit in silence as Roselin bids me rise from my chair and outfits me in a gown that seems much too extravagant for such a small gathering.

"Now you look like a true princess, milady," Roselin breathes when she is done with me. I consider myself in the full-length looking glass and cringe at what I see. I look over the jewels flashing at throat and ear, the elaborate blue samite that brings out the color of my eyes and the low-cut bodice that exposes too much of my flesh, and feel nothing but the vilest contempt. I don't feel like a savior. I feel like a fool.

It's near moonrise by the time I meet Ganondorf, who is standing impatiently outside the great hall's doors. He looks me up and down as I approach, but his eyes betray no pleasure. Only when I kiss his fingers and step meekly back does he smile. "Zelda." He touches my hair. "You dressed as I bid you; good. Shall we?"

I give him a tentative nod. The odor of overcooked meat and the cacophonous wailing of a singer gusts over us as he opens the heavy wooden doors. The court is waiting for us here, I see immediately, and they bend the knee to Ganondorf as we enter arm-in-arm, from our newest guests in their grave black attire to the serving girls in maiden white.

The walk from the entrance to the high table seems like an eternity, though it takes us only a few moments to reach the dais in truth. The feeling of all eyes upon us as we look down upon our court makes me uneasy. I look past my seat at the high table to where the refugees are seated at a table of their own. They look so pale…from graybeard to callow boy, lifeless as corpses. For a moment, I am mystified by the sight of them; even the color of their hair is muted in comparison to the tapestries hanging behind them, never mind the rest of our court. It is as if they are ghosts in our midst.

Then I realize that one of them is looking at me as well. Quickly I avert my gaze and take my seat at Ganondorf's side.

"_Guests_," Ganondorf says in ringing tones, his voice cleaving through the minor chatter echoing throughout the great hall. Those sounds fall to a hush at once. "Honored guests. Share with me this meat and ale, and be welcome under my roof. Let this feast well and truly begin!"

With that, a beginning is called, a score of kitchen boys and serving girls propelling into motion. The singer resumes his warbling song, the volume of which makes my head throb and my jaw clench in dismay. A heated conversation regarding hunts before the dark came picks up to my right, though to my left Ganondorf holds his steely silence. Servants come to the high table bearing food in abundance, from charred joints of meat to honey cakes and fresh fruit, but I give all my portions to men farther down the table. Nervousness has made the very smell of food repellent, and I know I could never keep any of it down.

Beside me, Ganondorf has no such reservation. He takes a king's portion from every dish offered to us, sampling each of his choices briefly before pushing it aside in favor of the next…yet he does not so much as look my way, and his wine cup remains untouched. I long to take a drink from my own, if only to quell the sick feeling growing in my belly, but I don't dare to do so until I see what he has in mind.

"Are you well, Zelda?" Ganondorf's voice, as ever, breaks me from my reverie. "You look a thousand leagues away."

His concern takes me by surprise. "The wine is not strong enough," I lie loudly. I take a tentative sip under his watchful eyes. It is very strong; two large swallows later, my head is swimming.

Desperate to remove Ganondorf's attention from me, I down the rest of the glass of wine. The ploy doesn't work as well as I'd like. The wine is more potent on my empty stomach than I want to admit, and there is no lack of servants eager to refill my cup the second I set it down. By the second cup, I am brooding, as I tend to when I've had too much wine. Having successfully diverted Ganondorf's attention, I merely toy with my wine cup when a servant refills it for the third time, determined to keep some of my wits about me this night.

I look dully around the great hall, wondering why I was made to be subject to this. Strangely enough, there seems to be no lack of merriment. The refugees at the back of our hall laugh and share stories like long-lost brothers, tearing into every dish offered like starved dogs. Kitchen boys sprint from table to table refilling drinks and offering food, serving girls doing the same are clumsily fondled, and more than a few of the members of our court are well on their way to being reeling drunk. For some reason, the tableau of debauchery and excess saddens me.

The feast goes on until it's more than I can bear. Servants return to the high table bearing more food, a fight breaks out somewhere below the salt, and the singer keeps wailing, drunk as a groom on his wedding night. And more, so much more. The longer I sit on the high bench, the more uncomfortable I feel…until Ganondorf stands and bangs his empty wine cup on the table, creating a loud noise as a signal for silence.

At first, no one pays attention to one more sound added to the cacophony. Soon enough, however, a few recognize their king is the source of the noise and begin to bang their cups on the table in turn. The sounds build upon themselves, growing louder and louder as the feasters join their king. Eventually the entire hall rings with the sound of pewter banging against wood…then all falls deadly silent as Ganondorf slows and stops his own banging upon the high table.

"Many of you may have wondered at the sight of newcomers among us today," Ganondorf begins. He smiles, yet the emotion fails to reach his eyes. "Their appearance is a miracle. I must admit it – this is truly a sign that the goddesses have not forgotten us. They have answered our prayers. Do not just think of this just as the end of a period of supreme hardship, but also as a beginning of a joy that none of us can yet comprehend. Thank the goddesses for allowing us the opportunity to see this day.

"Yet we would never have lasted this long if not for our possession of the Power to throw back the dark and the Wisdom to understand and accept the existence of the screaming shadows. I would never have managed to maintain our kingdom for this long without the help of one other. We all owe thanks to the one who made this day possible. It is thanks to my wife the queen, my right hand." I look up sharply from my wine cup.

Ganondorf is looking down at me, his expression more kindly than I have ever seen it. He coaxes me to rise and I stand as he bids me, still somewhat dizzy. "My wife, the most gifted woman I have ever known. We all owe you a multitude of thanks for the sacrifices you've made for us." He takes my hand and raises it as if he's holding a Courageous banner. "To the queen! To my wife the queen!"

I start to cry. Our makeshift court responds at once, knights and spearmen alike bending the knee before me until it seems that I'm staring at a sea of heads past my sudden veil of tears. "To the queen! Queen Zelda!"

Ganondorf pulls me close when he notices my tears, holding my arm in a crushing grasp. We sit back down on the bench before he speaks, and as quickly as that the feast resumes with barely a pause. "Zelda, why are you crying? You surprise me. I thought this would please you."

"They…" I have to stop myself; I hate what I'm saying, how mewling and pathetic I sound. "They call me Grace…"

After a moment, Ganondorf leans even closer. "You must not cry, Zelda," he whispers, his breath hot in my ear. I shiver at his tone; he speaks to me like a lover. "It is meet and proper that they look upon you as their liege lady. You would not have received such courtesy in your father's court; that I promise you."

Power tingles down my spine and the sensation is tantalizing, almost erotic. Abruptly I pull away from him and rise from the bench. "I must be excused," I say tightly. Before Ganondorf can say me nay, I step down from the dais and dart towards the back of the hall, pushing past the clusters of garrison men and pageboys till I reach the doors. I pull them open without a second thought and slip out into the darkened hall, my ears deaf to sounds of outrage as the great hall falls farther behind me. My feet race as my mind goes blank, taking me first right then left…

Eventually I find rest beneath a brazier in a corridor no different than a thousand others. Breathing heavily, I lean against the wall and will my heart to slow while blood pounds in my ears. He's never allowed them to call me queen before, has never exerted himself where others might see my discomfort. The wine is making my head spin again. I have to hide my face in my hands to calm myself.

"Queen Zelda," says a man from behind me. "My pardons. I didn't mean to disturb you."

I turn quickly to face him. It's the man who knelt before Ganondorf earlier, Link. He reaches out for me as I turn, but whether he means to take my shoulder or kiss my fingers I can't tell. I shy away from his touch, unsure and fearful, and he looks confused for a moment until he remembers. "Forgive me. The king told us of your…power."

Almost instantly, I regret my reaction to him. This is a survivor of the dark, who has just as much to lose as me, and here we are alone. Even if he followed me – doubtless he followed me – he is no threat to me here. Slowly I relax, and remember my courtesy. "It is I who should be apologizing. You are no disturbance, sir, it's just…I'm very tired."

He must have seen me crying in the great hall, but if he did he doesn't let it show. "I am tired as well," he says carefully. Then he presses his lips together, doubtless thinking of what to say next. I dread what's to come; this is a queer place for a conversation, and I know that nothing a survivor from the shadows has to say can be good. "My queen, there is something you must know. You are not wholly safe within this castle."

I stand before him and do not speak. For a moment I'm not sure what to say, or indeed what he wants to hear. Anger, tears, thanks for his well-meant warning? Instead I give him the truth, though I can't say why. "This I know. I almost died here."

"Your troubles were well known in the forest. That is not exactly what I meant." He is very close. I can smell the wine on his breath and see the brazier's flame reflected in his pale bluish eyes. He has bathed in lemon water as well, and looks somewhat comelier in his well-fitting black raiment. "Before the king admitted us into his castle, we saw shadows trying to cross your moat. We managed to scare them off with torch and steel, but…if I may ask, is it your husband's strength alone you are relying upon to keep the shadow monsters at bay? It may not sustain you for much longer, I fear."

I shake my head as he speaks. "I must confess I don't understand what it must have been like to live in the shadows and fight the horde. I pity you for having had to live that life…but you needn't think on that anymore. My husband and I are doing all we can to keep the dark at a distance. You are quite safe here."

"_Safe_?" Link repeats, his voice filled with sudden venom. "You don't know the meaning of safety, I think."

His sudden change in mood disturbs me. "Link? I don't understand—"

"No. Of course you don't understand. How could you? Oh, goddesses…" He gives me a searching glance, all traces of affected respect gone. "How old are you? No more than fifteen, most like."

The question takes me aback. "Seventeen," I tell him. I fling the answer at him. "I'm seventeen. And you—"

"Yes. We are of an age, you and me. And yet…I feel so much older." He sounds almost sad. "You don't know a thing about what lies beyond this castle, do you? No one's bothered to tell you what things are like afield."

"That's not so." Absurdly, I feel as if I have something to prove to him. "The king knows what things are like without, much better than me. He's told me—"

"_Nothing_! The king knows nothing. He didn't as much as blink when we told him…" He turns his face away and bites his lip – a nervous habit, I think, but this time he uses it to stifle a curse.

"What are you trying to say?"

"Only this." Link looks down at me, so that our eyes meet. I cringe at what I see in his; a judgment as biting as that delivered by my father in my dreams, by Ganondorf on his dais. "Your attempts to stave off death are useless. You cower here, like a captive princess in a song, as if these lifeless walls will protect you. How many times has the king forbid you to leave the castle and see what lies beyond, for fear of your death? You don't know what it means to live; I can tell that much. You pity _me_, my queen? I pity you as well."

"What is life worth, if death is nothing to fear?" For the first time outside my dreams, I feel angry. I seize on the refreshing emotion, strangling it in my phantom grasp. "What is _your_ life worth? Link?"

Link freezes. When he speaks again, his eyes seem much brighter in the torchlight, and he speaks in a soft tone I've never heard any man use. "My life is worth nothing – less than nothing. It can't be anything more, after I've seen how easily that gift is taken away. And yet…there is sweetness to experiencing _life_ to its fullest, isn't there? How can you do that ensconced in a castle? I ask you."

"We've barricaded ourselves here for a reason. There's nothing to save past the portcullis; you know that as well as I do. All that's left to do is mourn." I draw away from him, cold now. "You should go back; your absence will be noted."

"Yours as well. The king was most incensed by your disappearance, you should know. It might be that he has men even now searching the halls for you; in fact, _I_ might have been assigned to that unhappy task."

"You followed me," I tell him, my suspicion now all but a certainty. "You followed me here…just to censure me? To bring me back to Ganondorf, though we stand here even now? I will not believe that. What is it? Why do you care?"

"It's…" Link pauses and shakes his head. "You won't believe me, I know, but I couldn't take my eyes off you tonight. You look so unhappy beside your husband, Queen Zelda, and I must wonder if you are well. If you are in mourning, as you claim, I won't bother you further – but I think it's important that you see your kingdom, if only so that you understand. I would be honored to show you."

His words strike me like lightning, stunning me to such a degree that I feel I cannot as much as protest. "No," I finally blurt. "The king has disallowed me the field."

"No? That's disappointing. Tell me, is it true that the king has you under a magic spell that makes you so obedient?"

"Who told you that?" I ask sharply.

"No one told me. I heard it all the same. You'd be surprised by what you can hear just by listening instead of talking. A lesson that the king has yet to learn, but perhaps you can teach him. And perhaps he'll discipline his servants in the bargain."

"Are you even listening to what you're saying? You're asking me to go against the king's word. _The king._ He would be so angry if he were to find out. You'd most likely be executed for treason; perhaps both of us would be. And someone will find out, no matter what precautions we take. We'd be attainted, censured, killed…"

"Beyond a certainty, My Grace. I mean, Your Grace." He bites his lip as he says that.

Shadows slide sinuously along the walls, as if reveling in the silence that hangs between Link and me. Nothing else moves. The sound the brazier makes as the torch burns coupled with Link's eyes on my frame make me extremely uncomfortable. I realize just how uncomfortable I am in this castle. Then I make my decision. "Show me," I finally whisper.


	4. Awe

I pull my blankets up to my chin and close my eyes, waiting for Roselin to go to sleep.

It's well past moonrise and around us most of the castle slumbers. I myself have stolen sleep all day in anticipation of this moment, which has left me too restless to dream and too anxious to wait for something to happen. Even now, hours after I threw the parchment into the fire, the scant words he wrote to me dance before my mind's eye: _Come out to your balcony tonight if you want to see the dark._ That is what I want…isn't it?

I've run through the scenario a hundred times in my head, putting the idea through its paces. Link and I will steal our way out of the castle like common thieves to see what waits in the dark. Should all go according to plan, we will be safely ensconced back in our chambers before the sun has risen and the castle has awoken for the day. If something should go wrong, however… The threat of death and dismemberment at the hands of the horde seems a minor thing compared to the threat of Ganondorf finding out about this. This will shame him, and shame makes my husband angry. I cannot allow him to find out, no matter the cost.

Roselin's soft snores alert my wandering mind when finally she falls asleep. As carefully as possible, I slide from bed, holding my breath as I set my feet down on the cold stones. On light feet, I creep over to my maidservant's chest, where I've prepared warm garments for this evening. Roselin is as small at twenty-four as I am at seventeen, so her clothes are admirably suited to my purpose. Despite my resolve, I feel a pang of guilt as I lift the lid of her chest and remove the garments I've chosen for this night: dress, girdle, cloak and hose, all dark.

Quickly I shrug out of my nightclothes, trying not to shiver as the cool night air raises goosebumps on my bare skin, and dress myself. I fumble with the girdle first, not used to lacing it myself, but eventually I set it aright. As I pull a woolen sock up my leg, Roselin cries out in her sleep. I freeze in sudden fear, thinking she must awaken, but she never does. After a few moments more of tense nervousness, I return to my furtive task. Soon enough, I am outfitted as plainly as any maid.

That task done, I carefully shut the lid of Roselin's chest and make my way back over to the double doors that lead to my balcony. The distance from here to there is not particularly considerable, but as tense as I am it seems to take an eternity before I reach the doors and take the cold handle between my fingers. Now, too anxious to maintain my careful slowness, I pull open the door and quickly slip out into the night.

Near immediately, I am thankful for the warm clothing I wear. A gelid wind whispers through the far trees and cuts through my thick cloak like a knife. I huddle deeper within the cloth's folds, surveying the night spread out before me. All is black and still. As ever, the darkness obscures the sight of the castle grounds, and camouflages the approach of Link, should he even come. It will be darker still when we are down amongst the shadows, I know, and it's darkest of all for those faceless and unknown who by some miracle still dwell in the dark, doubtless praying daily for salvation.

The harsh sound of metal against marble assaults my ears and I feel the slightest vibration under my feet. Before I can even begin to investigate the source of the sound, gauntleted hands appear on the railing; in what seems like an instant, Link pulls himself up onto my balcony and approaches me where I stand. He bends the knee before me in a show of obeisance, but his face is insolent as he rises. "Your Grace. I feared you would not admit me." His lip is bleeding slightly where he's bitten at it.

The light words fill me with panic; I can only pray that Roselin didn't hear him speak. I press a gloved finger against his lips and twist slightly to close the balcony doors as quietly as possible. "Do you _want_ us to be discovered?" I ask when I've led him to the far end of the balcony.

"No more than I want us to die tonight. My pardons, I just thought…I…don't know what I thought. I forgot myself." Link runs his fingers through his short hair. He sounds remorseful, I think, but the look on his weathered face belies that.

We are silent for a time, just looking at each other. Perhaps we both want to delay the inevitable for just a while longer. In my heart, though, I know we cannot stay here long; every moment we remain on the castle grounds increases the chances that we will be discovered. My eyes drift down the length of his body and rest on his hip, where a large bag is tied to his swordbelt. "Is that…?"

He is quick. "It's my magic bag. It contains everything we'll need to stay safe outside the castle walls. Tonight is not the night I die." Link gives me another cursory look. "I am glad you dressed dark."

I never answer him. After a few awkward moments, Link reaches into his magic bag and removes a tool to show it to me. It appears strange to my eye; a handle is at one end while a hook is on the other, connected to a length of chain coiled around a central chamber. I study it in silence before Link speaks. "This is my hookshot," he says, his voice ringing with a strange sort of pride. "It should take us where we need to go."

"How?" I ask incredulously. "It is good that you managed to get up here, but how do we get back down? The usual ways are shut to us…"

"There is one way. We must go down." Link smiles enigmatically, his lip still bleeding.

"Down? You only have the one hookshot. What are you suggesting?"

"I know." He gives me a solemn look. "I'll need you to climb onto my back."

I give him a look full of stupid disbelief. "Your back? Will you be able to carry me?"

"Of course," he replies defensively. "You're only a girl. You can't weigh more than the pack I wore in the dark."

"You'd be surprised…" Nevertheless, I relent. What would be the gain in pressing the point further, anyhow? Falling from Link's back in exhaustion is not the worst of the many possibilities posed to us this night.

Link closes one eye, aims, and shoots the hookshot at a point in the stone wall above us. Crumbled granite rains down upon our heads as the hook finds its mark. And now comes the part that has filled me with such dread; I move close behind him and, after much shifting and repositioning, I manage to climb onto his back. He smells of sweat and his hair could use a wash, but both of us seem secure for the moment. Beneath the layers of wool and roughspun that shield my skin from his, I can feel the warmth radiating from him.

After checking to make sure the hook is securely in place, Link climbs onto the wide railing on the edge of my balcony. We teeter on the edge for a moment as he adjusts to my weight and I glance down at the ground far below us. My mind cringes, doesn't want to look. The distance downward is dizzying. As he steadies himself, I cling to him tightly and shut my eyes, determined to look down no more than I have to.

Then, without the slightest word of warning, Link jumps free of the railing and braces his legs against the outer wall. Forgetting myself, I open my eyes to see. The blank stone face of the wall stares at us as we swing slightly back and forth, the chain clinking softly. Beneath me, the muscles of Link's back flex and bunch. He is looking upward, slowly releasing more and more the chain as we scale down the wall. The sensation of going downward makes my stomach lurch into my throat. I swallow with difficulty and close my eyes anew, wishing this to be over.

It seems to take an eternity for us to reach the ground, and when we do, it comes as a surprise. Despite all Link's earlier posturing, he is trembling and breathing heavily by the time we set foot on the ground. I gasp gratefully when I feel the ground below us and without the slightest hesitation I climb down from his back, weak and shaky myself. As Link struggles with the hookshot, I look around the shadowy inner yard of the castle. We've timed our nighttime escape perfectly, it seems. The guards on patrol look far and away on their posts on the walls, and around us all is still. A reluctant excitement springs to life within me. Maybe this will turn out okay after all.

When his task is done, Link turns to me. "Now, we go to the stables."

We go to the stables, creeping from shadow to shadow within the yard and pausing often to look for signs that we might have been spotted. Our progress is quiet enough, it seems, because the guards never raise the hue and cry. None have thought to look for us. With each step forward, I feel bolder. By the time we finally reach the stables, pushing open the large double doors and stepping into the gloom, I feel confident enough to gloat. I turn around to face Link, a slow smile spreading across my face. "We're almost there."

"I know that." Link does not seem to share my excitement. His own expression is near blank. "The most dangerous time still awaits us. Perhaps you should save your joy for after we've returned from our trip."

His sour words temper my excitement with a measure of caution. Wiping the smile from my face, I turn to ready the two horses we've chosen for this night while Link goes to gather the tack. We've chosen to shy away from the knight's coursers and spirited mares our guests brought with them, opting instead to ride two old, yet dependable geldings from the castle's own stock. They're fast enough to gallop, should the need arise, yet unremarkable enough to go without drawing notice. I pat one on the nose affectionately as I lead it from its stall and tether it near the mounting block.

Link returns to my side, wrestling with saddles and bridles. Still side by side, we tack up in silence. As I work, every once in a while, I look over at him curiously. He seems a completely different man from the one who kneeled before Ganondorf, who cornered me in that shadowy hall, but I can't quite place what exactly has changed about him. Every one of his mannerisms now seems razor-sharp, and he appears stronger and paler, still silent beside me. I work my jaw in my own silence, considering.

When finally we are done, Link turns toward me. "Let me help you mount," he mutters. He kneels to give me a leg up and boosts me onto the back of the gelding. The horse shifts impatiently below me and I grip the reins in nervousness. Link reaches down into his bag after he helps me mount, an expression of intense concentration on his face. The foul smell of pitch reaches my nose as he finally withdraws two prepared torches from his magic bag. "Here." I hold them as he wrestles with a flint box. Two deft strikes and the torches I hold are blazing. He turns to mount, and once he's set aright, I hand him one of them.

We lead our horses without, Link dismounting quickly to shut the stable doors behind us. When he is set aright again, we proceed across the yard, once more sticking to the shadows. It occurs to me that there is some security to be found in the dark.

Eventually, we make our way to a postern gate cloaked in darkness. There are no guards posted here; likely, this exit has been forgotten about since before the dark fell. The gate is thick and oaken, bound and barred, the way forward closed to us. There will be no way to hide this visible sign of our departure, but it must be done all the same. After a few moments, Link twists in the saddle to look back at me. "There's no turning back after we open that gate. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes." The fact that he would ask that question _now_, of all times, annoys me…especially after he was so intent on showing me the dark before. "Do it now, before I lose my nerve."

Link nods. Then he slides from the saddle, walks over to the gate, and lifts the bar free. Throwing it aside with a grunt of exhaustion, he cracks open the gate, just slightly. A fetid wind blows kicks up, opening the small gate more forcefully. I nearly gag on the scent emanating from behind the postern; it is moist, heavy with age and thick with rot. Is this a precursor to the death that awaits us in the screaming shadows?

Noticing my grimace, Link catches my eye. "No, the dark does not smell pleasant. You will learn to bear it, as I have. Shall we?"

I give him a nod. Link opens the postern all the way, revealing blackness and nothing else as he returns to his horse. I haul in a deep breath. The night stretches before us, dark and silent as the grave. I hope I'm making the right decision.

In no time at all, Link has remounted and led me without.

And then the world changes.

Truly, the field outside the castle boundary looks no different than it has from the crenels, from the countless days and nights I've spent watching it from my bedroom window. We proceed forth on the same narrow dirt path I have seen before, strangely worn smooth even after all these years, while ragged long grasses and tangled undergrowth crowd around us. Yet I feel the change, as Link has, his riding stance visibly stiffening before me. All is still, but menace seems to emanate from the field. And our surroundings are not black as pitch as I had assumed; rather, the sky above and the way before us seem lit with a baleful inner light, simultaneously washing out all color and giving the area a heady glow. I falter on the path, wanting nothing more than to wallow in my wonder.

Link pulls up beside me, startling me from my scrutiny. "My queen, is something amiss? You seem…surprised."

"I didn't think it would be like this," I finally say, dismayed. "It's so…so…"

"…so gray and cheerless? This is what it means, to dwell in shadows." Link smiles bitterly. "When I saw the seat of Hyrule, and you, I thought that I was lost in some fever dream, so bright the colors seemed. Now, though…even your hair has turned to dross. But what do you think of your colorless kingdom? Does it please you?"

I am so miffed for a moment that I can't bring myself to reply. Shouldn't the answer be apparent enough? But I sense the impatience behind his words and realize we can't linger here, not where the horde is doubtless watching. Link gives me one last meaningful look as he nudges his mount with his spurs, and after a moment of mute helplessness I bring myself to do the same.

Those we executed ended their lives on this field, I remember suddenly, feeling panic worm its way into me at the thought. In my mind's eye I imagine them there, from the kitchen girl to those I can't truly remember, stranded in the wilderness for the first time without hope of salvation. I try to tell myself that it doesn't matter now, they were all seized by the horde to be turned into one of their ilk, but that does nothing to stave off the creeping guilt in my chest and the insignificance I feel.

In the shadows, we are muted as fallen stars. In the shadows, we are corpses.

We travel a short distance further before the path peters out, giving way to a fledgling forest choked with clinging undergrowth and the upraised roots of unruly trees. The darkness I'd anticipated crowds in once we're under the rancid canopy, making me give an involuntary shudder and huddle ever deeper within the folds of my cloak. Ahead, Link does not seem to share my disquiet, carefully yet efficiently leading his mount through the maze of gnarled roots and underfoot traps. I myself am not half the rider he appears to be, especially when I'm this nervous, but I gamely manage to pick my way through as well.

Soon the forest is behind us, to my relief, giving way to another straight path leading towards what seems to be a shroud of darkness. "This used to be a castle town," Link warns me needlessly as we come upon the remains of a gate decorated with a large rusted talisman meant to keep the shadows at bay. "There are vengeful dead here, they say – and corpses at the least. The cobbles are worn in places as well. Stay by my side and don't look around any more than you have to."

His words send a chill chasing itself down my spine and I find it no obstacle to acquiesce. Yet even despite his warning, I find it difficult to process the tableau that unfolds before me as we pass under the crumbling arch, can't understand the shame and sheer horror I feel.

I might have expected to see the dead littering the streets based on Link's words, the devastating side effect of the war the shadows had waged and won. I knew of the existence of towns, and of the theoretical existence of this one, based on Ganondorf's words. I knew what to expect. Nothing should have come as any surprise to me, yet laying eyes on the broken shell that had once been "castle town" makes sorrow and regret rise in my chest.

There are no vengeful spirits of the dead, not the merest hint of the horde, but the remains of lives lived when the sun shined are all around us. As we make our way down the main street cleaving through the town, I look around against Link's instruction, seeing the blank eyes of windowless hovels staring back at us alongside taller buildings and storefronts built so close that they almost seem to kiss. Link's pulled up beside me as he warned that he would, deadly silent yet giving me a sidelong glance still.

Aside from the general state of disrepair of the buildings and long grasses sprouting from between the cobbles, nothing seems amiss. Yet I cannot help but feel on edge, and even guilty. _People _lived here, once, and they're ablaze in my thoughts now in a way they never were when Ganondorf recounted the tale to me. Saving the castle's humble household was not enough; we should have been able to save this town, as well.

We pass a decrepit fountain and Link bids me turn down an even narrower side street. This way is darker, yet it seems that no danger lurks here. After a while, the alley opens up into a comfortable clearing resting before a large stone building. I give a gasp looking upon it; although it's clearly older than anything else in the castle town, it was built to last, and is second only to the castle in beauty. I look above and am stunned to find the sky here clear rather than cloudy.

Link pulls to a stop. "Here we are."

After we both dismount Link takes the horses' bridles in hand and ties them to a rotting post. When everything is as he means to leave it, we turn to climb the steps and stop before the door. Only now, absolved of the need for caution, do I acknowledge how flushed I am, the fine way my hands tremble.

It doesn't escape Link's notice, either. "You're nervous," he says.

The words are almost accusatory. I hug myself, look down at the steps. "Wouldn't you be? All my life, I have been told that to step outside the castle gates would mean my death. Yet here we stand, still intact."

"We have been quite fortunate in that regard, I will admit. I didn't consider it outside the realm of possibility to have to protect you at least once this night." Link looks around warily. "Yet we should not linger. The night grows long, and there are still things to show you within."

Not waiting for my reply, Link pushes open the heavy wooden doors. The smell and sight of dust surrounds us as we walk into an expansive chamber awash with moonlight. Aside from the lack of pews, it's clearly a temple; Virtuous symbols are carved into the walls, and there's an altar at the far end. All is black and white and shades of gray.

I look around in mute amazement for a moment more before kneeling and pressing my lips piously against the tiles. "Ganondorf told me about this temple," I hear myself say as I rise.

"I was told about this temple as well," Link says, softly. "When my men were surrounded by the horde on the journey north and all seemed lost, I remembered this place, and here we gained asylum for a time. This is the only other building insulated with holy protection, the only other safe haven in all the world. That's why I had to show you this place. There are attentive ears in the castle, and without no place is safe, but here…here, the goddesses can see."

"What do you mean?" I blurt before I can stop myself, startled. "You told me you meant to show me the dark, nothing more. That I would learn from the experience…"

"I know what I told you. I think…I think it's time that I told you more about me than I'd intended." Link lets out an audible sigh, the sound echoing throughout the massive chamber. "In the forest, a woman dwelled with us for a time. Her name was Impa. She could walk through the shadows without fear – and would, of a night, slaughtering what few of the horde thought to creep close to our hideout. We used to laugh when she said she was of the shadows herself…but the more I think of it now, the more I think that it was true. How else would she know all she did of them? Well, she taught us all she knew and was pleasant enough, but one day she disappeared without a trace. Not long after she returned to her brethren did the horde come for us, and we were forced to flee. So you see, we are no heroes; you won't find what you're looking for among my men, Queen Zelda."

I don't know quite what to say, and within I feel a slight embarrassment – though whether it's for me or his sake I don't know. "Your tale is harrowing, Link, but we never – I never…"

"It was no tale." In a swift movement, he takes my hand and clasps it gently with his own. "I've told you the truth; it is only fair that you do the same. No more lies between us, my queen. Your servants speak as openly as if we're not guests in your castle, and…now I understand better why the king allowed us within his walls. I might have done the same, were I him. I tell you, he will not find what he's looking for among us, or at least you'd best hope he never does. But I think you will find what _you're_ looking for in this temple, if you look hard enough."

We both seem to realize at the same time that he still holds my hand. I'm too shocked by the foreign sensation to act, but Link's eyes widen in apparent dismay. In an instant, he draws his hand back, looking abashed and shy…almost afraid. "I forgot myself," he says again. "Forgive me."

"Don't apologize," I say in a heated rush. "I could barely feel you, not with my gloves. But…I felt the truth of your words…here and here." Gently I touch his temple and then his chest over his heart before pulling back.

Behind the altar is a set of steps leading up to a stone arch set back from the door. Just the sight of it makes hairs rise on the back of my neck, but I feel a sudden compulsion to be near it. I climb the steps and stand before it, unable to suppress the nostalgia I feel.

"The king believes the goddesses visited this hardship upon us, to test our conviction and strength of will. They've retreated beyond our sight…and there, in their sacred realm, true daylight waits. Beyond, the sky shines gold, not gray." I press my hand flat against the door, against the cold solemn stone. "He and I are gifted with the last blessings the goddesses saw fit to give us. Together, we have managed to preserve the kingdom, but to find the third…"

"I don't know that I care to see what lies behind that door," Link says after a moment. "Do you?"

I can't give him the answer he wants, so I hold my silence. I keep my hand pressed against the unfeeling rock, absorbing the weight of ages, awash in Time's memory. I think of Ganondorf, searching for this door for near a score of years, and think of the golden world behind this portal, where the goddesses lay dreaming sweet dreams.

After some time, Link takes me back the way we came.

We stand in the doorway for a long time. Finally Link says, "The king must never know."

"No," I promise him.

Without, all is changed. Our surroundings have grown considerably darker, and the horses are shifting back and forth and pulling at their tethers in agitation. As we approach, I can see foamy spittle dripping from their mouths. Link takes one by the bridle and looks at it balefully. "Damn it." He unties it and moves to help me mount first. "They know we're here; I should have guessed as much. We must hurry back before they think to field an attack."

The horses are still somewhat uncooperative after we've mounted, but there's nothing to be done for it. Link kicks his into a trot, despite the loose cobbles underfoot, and I follow suit without protest. I know he speaks reason; I am unarmed, and while Link survived the horde, he is one man alone now. We will be no match against the horde, should we encounter them this night.

The castle town seems far more baleful on our return than it was previously. The hovels seem hunched-over and accusing rather than merely neglected, and shadows cling to spots they should not by rights be. I feel uneasy all over again, and breathe a sigh of relief to myself as we pass beneath the gate to another clearing. Yet the forest ahead we must pass through seems somehow worse; the makeshift entrance is more like a mouth than anything else. I cringe as we pass beneath its canopy.

We haven't gone a hundred yards when an explosion of malicious energy makes me stop short. My head begins to spin, just slightly. I try to follow Link without showing my upset, but it's all I can think about. Even worse are the shadows I can see lurking deeper in the undergrowth, and the whispers that follow at our heels. Finally, I hear my horse whinny, and look down to see curling tendrils of darkness teasing its hooves.

Faintly, I hear Link whisper a prayer.

The shadows reach out yearningly and my horse spooks, bucking so violently that I almost lose my seat; Link is hardly faring better in front of me. Before I can recover, the shadows rush towards us again, biting at our horses' legs with phantom teeth. This time the horse rears without a second thought, and for a heartbeat I find myself lifted deliriously high. My mount teeters on its two legs and I scream in terror. I know well what will happen if my horse loses its balance and topples backwards on top of me, but I'm helpless to stop it. The moment seems to last for an eternity, until I realize my feet have come free of the stirrups and I'm falling what seems an endless distance…

When I open my eyes, our horses are gone. Link's face seems to float detachedly before my vision, until I realize that he's shaking me quite firmly. When he sees I'm awake, he stops and removes his hands from my body as if he's touched fire. "Get up," he murmurs with badly concealed anxiety, helping me sit up. "We must go. The horde comes."

Colored spots dance before my vision as I rise to my feet, belying the darkness that shrouds us.

Only then do I become aware of the shadows screaming. Their cry is faint at first, so low and weak that I think I've imagined it. Imperceptibly their listless hums grow in volume, rising higher and higher until the tree branches all around us seem to quail in fear. Soon their cries are all I hear, reverberating through my head so loudly that I think I'm going mad. All around us, the dark is waiting.

I turn to Link and slap him so hard that his chewed lip begins to bleed all over again. "You brought me here to die."

Now the horde comes. They rise ponderously from the screaming shadows, pulling their appendages free of the clinging dark mass that surrounds us. Lithe and vaguely Hylian their appearance seems, though the thick mist obscures the sight of their faces. In their shapeless faces I see the girl we killed for treason, and all the others we've attainted and executed over the years. In their faces I see my father. Yet worse still is the sight of their swords. The weapons are wholly different from their masters: slender as spears, magnificent and alien, the steel seeming as light as spun crystal. Reflected smoke shines on the flats of the blades in a hundred different dark hues.

The sight of them repulses me. Yet I cannot turn my face away.

I stand still staring in stupefied amazement until I hear the scrape of steel on leather. I barely begin to turn around before Link knocks me aside, positioning himself in front of me with his sword in his hand. "_Get out of here!_ Do you want to die?"

"Stop it!" I cry at once. I take hold of his sword arm, barely noticing the way he shivers at the contact. "Put your sword away. You're too brave for your own good. If you go into the dark to fight them now, you _will_ die. The horde cannot step into the light…and the moon still shines. The most we can do is wait here until dawn comes, or…or…"

Link's turned to face me as I speak, all fiery emotion himself, but I can't bring myself to say those fatal final words. Our eyes lock, and while the horde considers us, we consider each other. Myriad expressions seem to flit across his face: weariness, consideration, even rage. It's impossible for me to tell which will win him over, so I wait in silence until my back aches with fear and tension. After what seems like a lifetime, he finally relents. Pulling free of my desperate grasp, he sheathes his sword.

"All we need do is wait for dawn to come."

And now he looks at me with all the scorn of a parent disciplining a child. "Dawn doesn't come in the dark."

The rebuke chills me, even as we stand close together awaiting the horde's advance. I cannot bear to look at our attackers, so instead I look up at the stars. The moon shines strongly, belying the crisis of our situation…yet the clouds surrounding it are a dire premonition. They move faster than I would have believed, first covering a mere corner of the moon, and then passing over the face of it. I wonder what it would be like to have wings, to lift us both free of the earthbound horde and to coax the sun out of the bank of clouds that protect it always.

When finally a shadow passes over us, Link pulls away and I shudder.

"Well, that's done." Link unsheathes his sword once more, composed and sad. "Our time is done. My queen, you must go."

"I can't," I tell him. "You'll die." We'll die.

"Go!" Without so much as a warning, he gives me a brusque shove back in the direction from whence we came. As I turn to look back, I see that Link has slid into a fighter's stance. Only now do I realize what is different about him this night: every movement is economical and fluid, full of a swordsman's grace. He is preparing to die. I hear myself choke back a sob.

I turn around and try to run from the dark. I do try. Dizziness washes over me before I go a yard, and then the ground comes up to slap me. Time seems to slow to a crawl as I dreamily lift my head from the leaves, barely seeing the dark crawling towards me with greedy fingers.

To my horror, I find myself too weak to move at the darkness's approach. My muscles are burning with the desire to escape. Hearing Link's cries of effort from behind me finally urge me into action, far too late. I jerk around to look at him, unmindful of my urine-soaked skirts; no fewer than six armed horde's men surround him, they deadly silent, him alive and flashing shining metal. It's clear how this conflict will end, yet I can't help but hope. Even that illusion is cruelly ripped away once Link is disarmed and thrown to the ground, so close I can see the chill of his breath. I silently say goodbye.

Looking at the ground before me, I let out a cry of disgust. The darkness has surrounded me, flowing with my movements like a train. Just beyond the baleful wave encircling me waits those of the horde who accosted Link, their weapons still visible. They are playing a game with us, that much is plain, and the thought fills me with renewed contempt. There's not much that can be done, I must acknowledge; stepping outside the circle of protection means death as certainly as staying here does. We are trapped.

It seems absurd that my life should end this way, when my life was a votive held against the dark, the goddesses' covenant with the kingdom. I think of the inhabitants of the castle, the hundred-odd who were slain for lacking Courage, all those lives I've judged and saved. I've lived with them, have suffered with them, and now I die apart from them, as insignificantly as my father predicted. The dread is too overwhelming to bear. How will my people, and Link's, live on when the dark slays us now?

Now, it ends. One shadow approaches me with sword in hand, while the others crowd around to block any method of escape. I have eyes only for the one standing above my form, trembling in helplessness, completely shameless. It seems to consider Link for a brief moment before turning its shapeless face back to me. The sword comes down in a gleaming black arc and I wail, disoriented by the sheer terror of my final moment.

My heart seems to rend itself in two and I roll over onto my side from the pain, gasping heavily as the shadows' low, sustained murmur turns into an outraged shriek. All is dark in death, it seems, yet when I open my eyes I see I did not die. I look up at the shadow above, but the sight of it is fuzzy behind a near-translucent blue shield. Confusion overtakes me for a moment before I feel the realization and relief; I must have instinctually protected myself against the shadow, my wisdom made manifest all around me. Transformed by wonder, I can consider nothing else in the moment.

The delight doesn't last long; already I feel weaker from expending this energy, and I know this state cannot be sustained forever. Still the shadows surround me, and doubtless there are many leagues to go before we'll reach the castle anew. We will soon be dead if another solution doesn't present itself. And Link…

Shock makes my heart freeze as I look over at him. Lying prostrate less than a foot from me is the fruit of all Ganondorf's efforts, everything we've looked for over the years…the world's panacea, if the history books are to be believed. Link is surrounded by a shield of his own and it takes me no time at all to realize that he is the one who held Courage all along. Yet his shield is not nearly as well-formed as my own; it trembles precariously as the horde redoubles its efforts upon him, and it's apparent that they'll soon achieve their target. Our eyes meet across the distance, and seeing the horror in his, fear settles within my middle once more, blooming and poisonous.

One Virtue was as nothing by itself, Ganondorf told me when I was no older than seven. For all his Power, my husband was held in shackles by the horde, and surely my birth would have been to no effect had Ganondorf not joined his life to mine within the castle walls. Power and Courage combined is anathema, I well know, while Power and Wisdom are revered together; Wisdom and Courage, however…

My sick fear has given way to a desperate hope, but if I am right…if I am wrong…

I make the decision in half a heartbeat. Feverishly, I pull off my gloves, exposing the untouched skin to the dark. "Give me your hand," I whisper thickly. I extend my own to his, my fingers just barely edging beyond the translucent aura that protects me. How they tremble, my fingers…

For a moment Link looks as if he'd do anything to fulfill my request, but then he remembers. "No." He bites his bloody lip. "I will not." Almost imperceptibly, he edges away from me, his transparent shield wavering with the movement. "The king told us never to touch you."

"The king is in his castle, safe," I tell him in a rush, "with no idea of what we are facing. His commands are as nothing here, you must know that! He need never know that you disobeyed his order in favor of mine. He need never know that this happened at all. I am your queen, have you forgotten? _Give me your hand._"

I realize, too late, that I've broken whatever concentration he'd been devoting to protecting himself. The warm aura of Courage that surrounds him implodes upon itself, retreating into his body and beyond my view. With barely a second's pause he lets out a long moan full of agony, and I see – to my horror – that the dark has covered his lower half like a shroud, dragging him towards the waiting horde.

"Give me your hand! I won't let them kill us, I promise." I yell the demand this time; my voice is reedy with desperation. The tears burn as they course down my face, equal parts frustration and fear. I can feel the dark reaching out for me, the mist that heralds its coming feeling sharp as razors as it lands on my unprotected ankles. "I promise!"

He takes my hand.


	5. Hopes

For the briefest of moments I allow myself to hope that has not understood her words. Ganondorf's face is so still that he looks half a corpse as he considers the three of us, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. "You are certain?" he asks Roselin.

"Aye." My maid is so pale that she looks as if she's spent a lifetime in the dark alongside Link, but she never so much as pauses. "When I awoke, she was gone, milord."

The three of us stand before Ganondorf, without restraints yet trapped nonetheless, in the castle's cheerless audience chamber. Ganondorf sits as haughty as any king, his expression as grim as ever. A fire has been laid in the hearth by some servant, giving the chamber a smoky aroma along with some measure of heat, but I'm terribly cold. Link's gaze – my guilt – seems to burn into my frame, but I try with all my might not to look at him.

"Zelda." His voice shears through the fog of my thoughts. Immediately I look up from the floor to Ganondorf's face, trying to smother the uneasy feeling that's settled in my stomach. As he stares at me, his expressionless mask falters a little. He is so angry. "Did you leave the castle alone?"

"Yes, Ganondorf." My voice is shaky with anxiety and thick with tears, though none have fallen. I wipe my burning eyes with a silken sleeve, hoping that he will be placated by the lie, hoping against hope that he won't press me further.

"Why?" he presses sharply. "After you've been told and told the dangers…"

"I know, but…I am weak, foolish."

"That is no answer. You swore before the goddesses you would tell the truth here, need I remind you. You would do well not to test my patience, Zelda."

"Very well." I leave the rest unsaid; I was hoping I wouldn't have to delve too deeply into the lie. May the goddesses forgive me. "I wanted to see. Ever since Link and his men came into our castle, I've wondered what it was like to dwell in the dark. I decided I wanted to see for myself, which is why I left as I did. But…"

"But?" he prompts, frowning.

"But the dark has traps waiting for the unwary." It is Link who picks up the lie, to my surprise. When I chance to glance his way, all I see is the side of his now-unsmiling face. "I wasn't seeking out the queen, not at first. As it happens, I noticed a few shadow monsters threatening the castle when we first rode through your gates, and I wanted to see if they were still lurking as I remembered. Luckily I strayed too far from the castle and saw Her Grace being attacked by a few of the shadow monsters herself."

"And what, exactly, did you hope to accomplish by seeking out the horde by yourself? Pure folly." Ganondorf snorts. "Go on."

"We managed to fight off the monsters with steel and magic. It was…it was a very foolish thing to attempt for my part, I must admit, though it's not my place to condemn the queen. Be that as it may, we held off all other threats long enough to make our way back to the castle, and to you."

"To me indeed." Ganondorf leans forward in his chair, as if to give some pronouncement, but he has eyes only for me. "It is good that you are both safe, but… What did you think waited out in the dark but death, Zelda? This cannot be allowed to happen again. If I must, I'll put you on hourly watch—"

"Your Grace," Link says heatedly. "The days are short, and doubtless you'll need further aid against the dark. I am loyal to you and your wife the queen; certainly I have proved my worthiness and devotion to your cause. Allow me to serve as her protector."

"And let her slip free of this castle again while you are distracted? No, no. It is not seemly that you, a guest, should be seen with my wife when she is already so easily led astray." Ganondorf's voice is cold enough to freeze water. "While I am thankful for your leal service, I suggest you tend to your own men from now on, Link."

Link lowers his eyes and doesn't speak. I notice him biting his lip once more, probably hard enough to draw blood.

My husband continues, oblivious to Link's upset. "As it happens, my wife already has all the protection she needs in her handmaid. Yet it seems to me that you were remiss in your duty to your queen, girl."

"_Milord_?" My maid seems surprised that she would be called upon to speak again. "I didn't do my duty, I guess that's true enough. I'll watch her closer this time, but—"

"Very well. See that it doesn't happen again. My curiosity is satisfied. Go away, I'm done with you." He waves a hand at my maid dismissively…then turns his gaze, cold with obvious contempt, Link's way. "You as well, sir; it would be best for you to return to your chambers."

Roselin leaves without a second glance my way, but Link lingers, catching my eye before he goes through the door and giving me a look that's equal parts heavy with promise and cool farewell.

No sooner than they are gone that Ganondorf rises, as deliberate as some terrible godly judgment visited upon me. I can see his intent in his eyes, but I am as powerless to run from him now as I have ever been. I tremble inwardly as he approaches me; I feel my hands tremble with the urge to touch him when he stops close enough for me to sense his Power. There he stands over me for a moment, still as a sentinel, before he hits me. Unable to shield the blow, I lower my head instead when he steps back, that I might blink away my furious tears before they can fall. I raise a hand to my face. My cheek tingles with pain and Power and humiliation.

"_Have you lost your wits?_" he finally hisses with barely contained fury. "Going out into the shadows, _alone_? Is life some game to you? I don't know what more I can say to you, Zelda. You've been told and _told_ to stay out of the field."

"I…I know that." What else can I say? My voice is so thick I fear that I'm about to choke on my lies, but Ganondorf can never know the truth.

He continues, oblivious. "You might have been killed, have you considered that? It is already trying enough to ward this castle against threat with the two of us. How would the kingdom survive without you?"

I keep my gaze trained on my slippers, determined not to say anything, until Ganondorf takes me by the shoulders. He shakes me, hard. "Listen to me, Zelda. You do not understand the dangers. Do you think the time I spent in the dark was a mere squall? It was an eternity." His jaw works as he pauses, considering. "They could not turn me into such as they were, no, but they transformed me all the same. I spent the better part of a year as a beast – a shade of my baser self. I had no recollection of who I was, what I was, until my Power grew to such that I could take the castle. Is that what you want to happen to you?"

Surprise makes me look at him, at that. He's never deigned to tell me about the time he spent in the dark before; that period in his life had been glossed over by his triumphant rescue of the realm, as unimportant as the life he lived before me. Now, though, as I study his lined face, and the disturbing depths of his bright eyes, I can't help but wonder what else he's kept hidden from me. Link might have told it true, after all. I don't know my husband, I realize. I don't know him at all.

The danger of him striking me again seems to have passed, so I touch his arm. "Ganondorf, you've never told me that before…why…"

"There was never any need to tell you; you've possessed good sense for years." As quickly as that, he is my king again. He shrugs out of my grasp and lets me go. "Perhaps inviting outsiders to stay amongst us was unwise; you were not so bold before they arrived. I want them gone…him and his men, they must quit my castle. We will talk of it later; come the morning, perhaps. Now, I want you gone from my sight, before you rouse my wroth again."

Desperate to go now that the danger is past, I turn for the door. But before I can take the first step towards it, Ganondorf calls out, "Zelda." Some part of me longs to run, but instead I turn to face him once more. "Remember your place," he tells me as he meets my eyes. He gives me a chilly look. "Remember your duty."

I leave before Ganondorf can lecture me further, but I can't bring myself to return to my bedchamber, where my maid will be waiting. Instead I walk the hallways aimlessly, trying to temper the intensity of my volatile emotions before I attempt to sleep. I want to hate Roselin for what she's done, or resent her at the very least, but that emotion will not come. She is acting under desperation like any of us are, compelled to take the actions that she does out of want for survival. There is no one to blame for this, I know. We are all under the thrall of the dark.

Eventually I happen upon a large window paned with glass that offers an expansive view of the activities of our besiegers below. Thankful for the isolation the midnight interrogation has granted me, I stop before it, thinking and watching. Without, the shadows are quiet, and they appear bluish with a rare sort of serenity. Even the sky seems lighter, though I wonder if that's just wishful thinking. I'm reminded of a time when Ganondorf told me that all nights were thus…how I wish they could be again.

Do I think I endangered the chance of that ever happening by following Link into certain death? No. We emerged from the screaming shadows alive and all the stronger from our experience…and even before we were stopped at the drawbridge, my mind was already spinning with thoughts of salvation. How can that be something worth attainting us for?

I remove my glove and press my scarred palm against the window, relishing the feeling of the cold hardness; it's in stark contrast to how my cheek feels, still flaming from his blow. He…

He frustrates me as much as he frightens me. Ganondorf has a very concrete, idealistic, view of me; even when I was a girl, the expectations he had seemed needlessly high. But now I understand better why he holds me to such a standard. I wonder what he must have thought upon seeing me for the first time, unmolested and unaffected by the darkness that had changed him utterly. Did he seethe in jealousy, knowing I would be forever innocent of his deepest horrors? Did some lingering part of his bestial mind place blame on me that can never be rectified, even now?

Did he forbid me the outside world even knowing that Nayru's love would shield me?

I know that he views me as valuable to his cause, know that him hearing what I had done secondhand from Roselin must have shaken the foundations of his beliefs, but I wish he were not so rigidly set in his ways. I wish that I could've told him the truth.

But I never can, so long as he dreams of seeing daylight again. I can never betray the promise I made to Link. He has Courage, but he's steadfastly refused to shackle himself to our goal. "I want no part in that," he told me on our way back to the castle. "There must be another way to save ourselves that doesn't involve something even you barely understand. I will watch, and wait…and if things grow dire, or your husband proves himself less rash, I will pledge myself to you. But not now. Promise me that none will know of this but us, my queen."

One more promise will not be so hard to keep. My very life is a promise, a votive held by lesser men in the face of our trials. In being so, it is as if I've been stripped of my own desires, if ever I had any. Ganondorf would take salvation at the expense of everything, while Link would not use his gift for anything…but what do _I_ want? I lay my forehead against the window as well, and close my eyes.

What I want… It comes to me suddenly; my eyes snap open at the epiphany and I take a wary step away from the window. To satisfy them both should be a feat beyond me, but it does not seem so now. What was it my father said to me in my dreams? A king must be a wolf – but wolves are cunning as well as fierce…

--

Hiding in the shadows of the dark corridor, I can't help but curse the compulsion that has driven me to go through with this for what feels like the thousandth time this morning. The girdle under my heavy clothing feels like a weight against my chest, as uncomfortable as the transparent lies I soothe myself with. I try to tell myself that what I'm doing is for the good of the kingdom, but that does nothing to alleviate my doubts and fears. Ganondorf will be so wroth if this is ever discovered. No one can ever find out.

Finally finding my motivation and grasping it, I push off the wall and continue through the halls of the castle. Through the narrow arrow-slits I pass, I can see just the promise of dawn to come, but I'm very careful not to let myself be seen. I have to be cautious; I have to keep my true purpose hidden. I only wish that I was better accustomed to games of deception. Hopefully, what I mean to do will serve me well this day. Before the weak sun rises and Roselin realizes I am gone once again, I must meet him…and convince him to commit to my plan.

I rap my gloved knuckles against the door as quietly as possible. After what seems a lifetime, I hear the shift of the bar as he sets it aside. The door opens and Link gapes at me in apparent shock. "Your Grace?"

"I am no Grace," I say as carefully as possible; that honorific is dangerous, I know. He steps aside to allow me entrance and I step through the threshold quickly, not yet lowering my cowl. "Close that door, quickly, if you value your life." I hear him hastening to obey.

I lower the cowl of my cloak and turn to face him. Link looks as wary as I feel, his brow furrowed in apparent confusion as he gazes upon me. His clothing is soiled and unkempt; doubtless I woke him, and he clothed himself only for my sake. Flushing at the thought, quickly I divert my attention elsewhere, taking in my surroundings instead. From the look of things, this bedchamber hasn't been used in quite some time. The rushes have not been changed in over a year, the bed linens are stained, and the rank smell of mildew hangs in the air. "The king does not treat you well, for all he says otherwise."

"No," he says. "He does not treat you well, either. Did he give you that bruise?"

Almost unthinkingly, I raise my hand to my face; the bruise is no longer as tender to the touch, but just the feel of it is enough to send disquiet tingling down my spine. "We were fools to go out into the field alone. You _know_ that."

"Your Grace—" he begins, heatedly, before trailing off in awkwardness. Immediately, I am overcome by the longing to prompt him to continue, but I can find neither the words nor the willpower. Eventually I let loose that mad urge; what would I have him say to me, anyway? There is a long pause as we consider each other. Finally he blurts, "I am honored by your visit; know that, but why…?"

"Why have I come to you, after the king forbade it? You would not like the reason, I fear." I lower my eyes, though whether out of fear or shame I can't tell. "The king means to send you away."

"Send me away? Where? No place is safe; he knows that very thing himself. Unless…he means for me to die." A horrible knowledge seems to bloom in his eyes as he understands. "You would not have come to idly give me that warning, I know. Do you think I plan to do something to thwart him, is that it?"

I never answer him. After a moment I slip the stolen dagger from a sleeve of my gown. Link takes notice of it almost immediately and for a long while his gaze never leaves it. Finally his eyes move from the dull steel gleam of the ceremonial blade to my face; his gaze is so economical and precise that I can't help but feel edgy. Does he think I've come to slide the weapon between his ribs? I quickly dispel any such fear. "This is not for you, Link. Do you think I want you dead?"

"No," Link says, after a pause. "No. Yet for one horrible moment I thought you meant to take the king's plans into your own hands. Goddesses…" He laughs, and the sheer bitterness of the sound is enough to make me draw back a few feet. "This castle is driving me mad. I can hardly tell friend from foe anymore."

Much as I long to speak, I hold my tongue, knowing that sometimes there is more to be gleaned from silence than words. We stand staring at each other and do not speak, the dagger in my hand becoming heavier by the second. It's almost torture to have to wait, but I must allow Link to puzzle through the situation for himself.

He breaks eye contact first, affecting nonchalance. "If that is your husband's wish, so be it. I will not stay where I am not welcome; to be threatened by death till finally I'm driven out. I will go. If…if Your Grace wishes it so, I will take you with me. We are friends, and I would not leave you to such a fate as the king has in store for you."

I shake my head before he's said his last word. "We will leave…and what then? Where will we go, Link? It is as you said; no place is safe, even for such as us. Surely we can do naught together but die." The thought of dwelling alone with him awakes some strange feeling in me, but I push that out of my mind in favor of the larger issue at hand. "I don't mean for you to exile yourself, but neither do I mean for you to die, after you saved my life. Hear my plan. I can help you."

Link's eyes narrow warily. "What is your proposal?"

Now comes the most important time. In anticipation of it, I study the floor and hedge. "You can't want this, I know. I have heard your reasons. Now hear mine."

"I'm listening." His voice falls to a whisper. "Your Grace."

"Link, I won't lie to you any longer. I have need of your Courage, but I would not steal it from you as my husband might. I am telling you this in confidence." I put a subtle emphasis on the words that he'll be sure to hear, if only to underscore the importance of this. "You must understand the danger we will both be in if my husband ever discovers that I came to visit you – especially if we are bereft of each other, our powers fractured…" Briefly, I consider his face: the deep-etched lines of premature age, the messy stubble where he's shaved himself, the chewed lips. "You must understand that _I cannot take the risk_."

Link's brow darkens. I know his desires well; I know he can't want to be joined in a union with me and perhaps my implacable husband if things go badly, but neither is he a fool. Danger or no, I've given him a chance to do something. How could such a Courageous man decline the chance to harness his gift to fight against the very thing that stole from him all he could have known? I know his decision even before his gaze confirms it. "Zelda," he says softly, as if he's saying my name for the first time. "What is it you propose?"

I remove my left glove and let it flutter to the rushes. Holding the dagger tightly, I draw its edge down the length of my palm. Past the pain, blood wells in the cut in a sacred red line. "Let me show you."


	6. Epilogue

I am dreaming of my father when Roselin shakes me awake. "Milady, you must get up. The king has summoned you."

I sit up immediately upon registering her words, feeling strangely alert. Save for me and my maidservant, the castle seems eerily still. Warily I look around; the bedchamber is pitch black, so dark that I wonder if the shadows have draped the castle in its funeral shroud in anticipation of our deaths. Could that be what Ganondorf wants, for me to save us from death now, as I supposedly did so long ago? "Is it dawn?" I have to ask.

"No, milady, but milord wants you all the same." Something in her tone urges me into action. I slide from bed and slip my nightgown over my head, done with false modesty for the moment. The thought nags at me that Ganondorf won't wait much longer.

I concentrate on the alien sensation coursing through me as my maidservant lays out a change of clothes. Quickly Roselin lights a candle, spicing the air with the scent of peony, but its flame is feeble. I can barely see myself as she helps me dress in the simple garb, saying nothing all the while. It's not the almost sexual allure of hunger I feel, as I always do when Ganondorf summons me in the night, but rather a panicky sort of anxiety – the sense that something must be done _now_. The feeling makes my skin crawl with unease.

By the time I am dressed, I feel more anxious than ever. As Roselin leads me without my chambers and towards Ganondorf's apartments, I have to swallow the urge to tell her to hasten her steps. I would leave her behind, but… Somehow, I find myself reluctant to leave the circle of light our lone candle provides as we make our way through the hallways. The light is sullen and weak, and all around us waits the dark. There's no protection from my thoughts here. In the dark, fears are born. In the dark, the monsters win.

"Here we are," Roselin announces uselessly as we come to a stop at the door before Ganondorf's apartments. It's a simple enough door, thick and oaken, yet nothing has ever seemed as imposing to me as it does in this moment. I consider it as Roselin considers me, and in the consideration time ticks away ceaselessly. Finally, I steel myself against whatever it is that my husband would have of me. I haul in a deep breath and open the door.

I enter to see Link unconscious at Ganondorf's feet, with my husband's sword pointed level with his throat. "Let her go and leave us," he commands Roselin, never moving. The girl lets me loose without as much as a word. I want to hate her…

All the while I stand still watching the frightening tableau before me, feeling ever sicker when I hear Roselin pull the door closed. Looking upon Link's prone form and the sinister gleam of Ganondorf's dark blade, my mind races with manic thoughts, and each one is more absurd than the last. I try to muster the courage to go to Link's side, try to master my racing heartbeat, but I cannot so much as bring myself to speak. Finally I manage to ask, "Did you kill him?"

Ganondorf gives me a cool look and never speaks. My eyes find his free hand, and I watch detachedly as he closes it to form a fist. Thick blood seeps between his fingers; I barely have time to realize the magnitude of that before phantom fingers close around my throat, and then my mind goes blank.

When I come to, I find myself collapsed on the stones. My throat hurts fiercely, I realize…and I'm greedily sucking in air, as if I've been deprived of it. He must have choked me through our blood link, I know now. The thought disquiets me more than words can express. I haul air into my aching lungs and rub my watery eyes, trembling all the while. "Did you think I wouldn't find out, Zelda?" Ganondorf hisses. "What was it that I told you once? Ah, yes, now I remember. _There are no secrets kept from the king._"

I say nothing, still not trusting my voice and hoping against all hope that Ganondorf does not know the full truth of things. After a few moments to collect myself, I rise to my feet, still feeling weak and unsteady. Link stirs at that. "Zelda—" he calls out, his voice weak and papery.

"Do not presume to say my wife's name." His foot shoots out and connects sharply with Link's ribs, making him cry out in renewed agony.

"_Don't!_" My reservations can hold me back no longer. I run over to Link and throw myself over his body as a crude shield, my heart racing all the while. My heart…my heart feels torn as well, and not just because of this continuing duress: I am filled with matched loyalties to these two men, each desire battling to override the other. Their blood pulses through my veins now, inarguably linking their fates to mine. If only I can find some way to placate them both… Somehow I force myself to look up at Ganondorf above me. "Whatever it is you want, Ganondorf, you'll get it from me and not him."

Ganondorf freezes and looks down at me. His eyes…I will never forget how his eyes look in this moment: filled with equal parts of lust, sick fear, and an ancient anger. He doesn't move to strike me in Link's stead, not the merest inch, yet I can see the potential for violence resting just beneath the surface of his powerful frame. And beneath _my_ frame I feel Link, a fine trembling running up and down his body from the abuse he's endured, contrasting sharply with the warmth of resolve radiating from him still…

Finally, after an eternity, Ganondorf breaks free of his inhuman stillness. "You're damn right I'll get what I want from you." His jaw clenches. "I will hear the truth now, _all_ of it. Leave nothing out."

"I…" I want to cry. I try to keep myself from doing so, taking slow calming breaths in an attempt to steady myself. "I don't know where to begin…"

"Why don't you begin at the beginning? That's always a good place to start. Tell me, Zelda, why did you feel it necessary to lie to me? Haven't I told and told you what the consequences of keeping things from me were? Haven't I?"

"You have," I tell him meekly, unwilling to risk agitating him any more. I can't let him become angrier than he already is. "The beginning – I'm not sure there is a beginning, really. Link and I went out into the dark together, to see how things were really like afield. But something happened…"

"Go on," Ganondorf prompts. His hands clench and unclench, almost as if they long to wring my neck.

"I'll…I'll tell you the rest once you let Link go." I say the words almost as soon as I've thought them. Later, perhaps, I will regret the impulse. "Let him go. Let him go, and I'll tell you whatever it is you wish to know. Let him go," I breathe heavily, "and I'll take you to the temple."

"No," Link whispers, "Zelda, no…"

"Yes. Get up, Link!" I say much more harshly than I intend. "You must go now, if you want to leave this castle alive. It's not you that Ganondorf wants, don't you understand that? You have your men to think of. Your men… _Get out of here!_"

"And what makes you think I'll allow that?" Ganondorf asks me coldly. "You are a slip of a girl and cannot hope to comprehend the thing that I have been looking for all these years. I am no fool. I know what this gutter rat has been hiding from me."

"If you know what he's hiding from you, why must you make me say it?" My voice is pleading now, close to tears. "Please, Ganondorf, have mercy…"

"The time for mercy is past. I want to hear it from your own lips. _Go on!_"

"He has Courage," I finally say, hating myself for the admission. May Link forgive me. "We were attacked by the horde, and were only able to save ourselves with the joining of Wisdom and Courage. I forged the blood link between us after you threatened to exile him. I hoped that once you saw his life was tied to mine, you would see reason. He didn't want to join with you; he was afraid of what you might do if you found out. But…"

"But?"

"Ganondorf please…please leave us be!" I can hold back the tears no longer. I start to cry, looking up at my husband-now-enemy while tears stream down my face.

"_But?_"

"…But we found a temple, surrounded by darkness," I reluctantly continue. "You were right. It looks exactly as you described it to me. There is a door in the temple that can only be opened once we have the third, as you thought. But nothing good can come from opening that door. That is why I didn't tell you. _I_ was afraid of what you might do to Link as well, should he have refused to join us."

To my surprise, Ganondorf merely smiles. "Excellent. It is as I thought. Dry your tears, Zelda. As it turns out, you are very wrong about one thing."

"About…about what?" I manage fearfully.

"The Door of Time should not be thought of as a harbinger of an apocalypse, but rather as a symbol of salvation. Darkness escaped from that door, and so it shall return."

Beneath me, Link stiffens with surprise. "_What?_" I blurt, before I can stop myself.

"You know little and less of the origins of the dark. No matter; that's enough talk for now." Ganondorf sheaths his sword. "You'll take me to this temple," he says. It's no question, but a blunt demand. I know better than to deny him. I hate that he's done this.

All my muscles seem to protest against the movement as I draw away from Link and get to my feet. Link does the same with more concerted effort, though I barely pay attention to him. All I can focus on is the self-loathing that has consumed me, more intense than it has ever been. This is not what I had pictured for myself, the way I imagined my life ending. The history books demand that I should be happy and beautiful and calm, yet instead I stand complicit before a murderer who has stolen from me all I knew and lost, paralyzed by the certain knowledge that I've helped him in his unhappy task in the past and will do so again now.

I hide my face in my hands and start to sob as Link removes his sword from its sheath and throws it at Ganondorf's feet.

Ganondorf looks down at the weapon with little and less interest. "No, keep your sword. I won't have it be said that I killed you while you were unarmed."

With that, he stalks towards the door, leaving the room smaller and more pathetic in his wake. I give a sigh of relief, temporarily removed from the brunt of his Power, while Link bends to retrieve his longsword. Now that the immediate terror is gone, it's plain to see he's just as winded from whatever Ganondorf did to him as I am. I extend an arm to him in silence and we follow behind Ganondorf, each of us supporting the weight of the other.

His Power is a beacon in the darkness, and we follow it along an unsurprising path. We pass by countless barred doors, narrow arrow-slits that display the screaming shadows, corridors filled with aged armor and weaponry, all these things I've accepted as part of my home over the years. I burn thinking that I'll never see them again, but beside me, Link seems to be suffering from quite a different distress. His eyes flit back and forth as we come upon branches in the path, as if seeking an alternative, though he never dares take a different path.

Finally we come to the now-familiar stables, where Ganondorf awaits us with three horses from Link's stock, healthy, spirited, and already tacked up. They are not so different from the horses Link and I stole on our ill-planned foray into the field; a lump forms in my throat at the thought.

My husband is looking at me dangerously, though, so I dare not express my thoughts. I accept the reins from his hand meekly and accept his boost onto the horse's back. After Link mounts with a fair amount of difficulty, Ganondorf opens the stable gate and leads us forth across the dusty yard, where the guards turn their eyes away from us.

We lead the horses along the outer wall for a time while Ganondorf contemplates the perfect place to make our exit. After a pause, he dismounts to unbar a postern, and then glances back at us.

Ganondorf seems to sense my unease, almost as if we are linked by telepathy, and gives me a smile that's more a nightmare grimace. "Don't worry, Zelda. We will be safe in the dark, all three of us…though I must relinquish my grip on the castle for the nonce. Bid farewell to your men, gutter rat."

"_Never,_" Link shoots back, his voice dripping venom, yet he makes no move to go warn his men of the danger they face. He seems to have grasped the reality of the situation as readily as I have; neither of us are Powerful enough to protect the castle alone, but so long as we remain by Ganondorf's side, the hope that we might wrest control from him is still alive. Still, his hands are tangled so tightly around the reins that they start to tremble from the effort of it.

We pass under the gate, into that very different twilit world, and within me I feel something _snap._ I know it must be Ganondorf devoting the base of his Power to protecting us alone, but the rush of baleful energy that pounds against the back of my brain takes me by surprise. I never considered the strain he must have been under all this time. I muffle my cry of pain against my horse's mane, and while Link shoots me a quizzical glance, Ganondorf doesn't spare me as much as a look.

Urged by Ganondorf's insistent pace, we canter free of the castle, past the patchwork-quilt fields disallowed me, into the shadowy woods where the unlettered horde lurks, and even further, completely unmolested. All the while, I'm waging silent battle in my mind, trying to ward the castle on my own. I try to hold on for as long as I can, thinking of Link's men and mine, the words my father said to me in my dreams, but I can feel myself growing ever weaker. It's as if I'm hanging from a cliff by my fingertips, my grip gradually deteriorating, till finally I'm sucked down below.

Far behind us, the shadows are screaming.

The rest seems to pass as a dream. And why not? Perhaps this is all a dream after all. Of course, the reality of my surroundings and the pain I feel within give the lie to that theory, yet I hold onto that bit of hope. We slow our pace as we cross into the castle town, leading our horses carefully over the cobbles, turning into familiar alleyways so narrow two cannot pass abreast. It occurs to me that Ganondorf knows exactly where we're going, and is simply making a point with this farce.

Soon we reach the clearing, where the castle looks exactly the same as it did when we last left it. I feel my heart sink, watching Ganondorf dismount and not even bother to tether his horse. It does not bode well, that he should not take every precaution to ensure our safe return. I wonder what will become of us…

As we cross the threshold, despite the severity of the situation I can't help but feel a measure of peace. Ganondorf makes the sign of the Triforce over his chest and kneels to kiss the tiles, as I did the first time I entered. It sickens me to see piety in such a man.

We all come to a stop before the altar, and Ganondorf turns to face us. Training his eyes on me, he begins to speak, his voice low and seductive. "The three Virtues must resonate if the Door of Time is to open. You know what you must do, Zelda; it's what you've been preparing for your whole life. To channel Wisdom, Power, and Courage, all at once. You will be a woman renowned, for a time." He hasn't even touched me, but he doesn't need to; he never has. Phantom shadows of his Power crawl all over me, as alluring as a siren's song, and all he has to do is extend his hand...

I look to Link beside me, and I feel his Courage calling out as well._ My promise._ I remember the one I made to Link, when the shadows lay extinguished behind us, and the one I made to Ganondorf when he took me to wife. I remember holding my bleeding palm against Link's, the indescribable exultation: the first shudder of coming, the last shudder of a woman who's wept for a long time. I want to experience the feeling more than anything, but the whole world holds me back. I swallow the urge, letting it settle in a nauseous knot in my middle. "I can't, Ganondorf, _I can't_—"

He hits me so hard that my cheek goes numb for a moment. When I come to my senses I find myself on the tiles. The taste of blood is in my mouth and my ear is ringing, but worst of all is the fact that I can still hear Ganondorf raging above me. "I didn't risk death to break the wise men's seal only to be stopped by some mealy-mouthed bitch. You _will_ do as I ask, and give me the boy's Courage. _Do you hear me?_"

Slowly, I raise myself to a sitting position, trying to control my shallow breathing as the tiles below my body slide in and out of focus. "I…I…"

"You'll pay for that," Link snarls, cutting me off. I look up in time to see him lunging at Ganondorf, attempting to grapple with him. Ganondorf gives him a bored look and makes a dismissive gesture, sending Link flying across the tiles with the mere force of his Power.

"Now…where were we?" He smiles. "Oh, yes. You'll need a knife."

I look to where Link has landed nervously. He's been knocked unconscious by the force of Ganondorf's Power, yet he seems to finally have attained a measure of peace. It was hard to hold true to my promise while he was cognizant, but I certainly can't steal his gift from him while he lies insensate. I have to delay Ganondorf, at least for a little while.

After a moment, I stand and slide my gaze back to my husband, gathering the tatters of my resolve. It's merely me and him, in the end, as it was at the beginning. "You said I knew little and less of what happened. Was it _all _lies, everything you've told me my whole life? Even…even that of my father?"

Ganondorf gives me a startled glance; he couldn't have expected me to speak. The resolve melts from his face, replaced by amusement as he laughs. "Oh, no. Not _everything._ Your father was a terrible king, if the truth is to be told, but my own father would have been an even worse one. Often I thank the goddesses for allowing him to be cut down in battle before he subjected the entire realm to his follies."

"Your father?" I repeat stupidly, and instantly chide myself. Ganondorf has told me little and less of himself, and I never thought to ask. It truly astounds me, how little I know, how much has passed beyond my notice.

"Yes, my _father,_" he snarls nastily. "You are not the only one who was failed by your sire. Do you know what it's like to have hunger as your only thought? No; I have always provided for you, despite the dark. My father could not so much as read, yet held ambitions to the throne. When I realized I held Power, I never let myself forget it, and rose to rule the Gerudo in my own right. _Your_ father attainted me as a wizard thief, and would not grant me an audience to so much as bend the knee.

"If I was shunned by my ruler, what allegiance did I owe him? What allegiance did I owe to anyone? I decided to disappear into quite a different world. Where the sky shines gold, not blue." He laughs. "I was foolish, I must admit it. I never considered the dangers. The Sacred Realm was meant only for a saint. The land turned itself against me, unleashing every horror in my heart. My demons overwhelmed me. The pain – you would not believe it, even if I told you. How long I spent under their thrall, I do not know, but eventually I was able to bring them under my control. At least the goddesses gave me that."

"The goddesses gave you the tool to destroy us all." I can't take my eyes off of him. Never have I been more horrified to be in his presence, and each sentence he utters cements the feeling further. All my life, and thousands of others', stolen in one man's search for something he'd never find. And from the way he looks at me, it's clear he thinks he's finally setting his wrongs aright. "And all these years, you pretended to want the best for the kingdom. How could you have done that? How could you have _lived_ a lie?"

"By the time I returned to my proper form, the damage had been done. These years where I protected the 'kingdom' were no illusion. Is that what you think, you foolish bitch? It takes more Power than you'll ever know to control the shadows. I underestimated the will of the dark, I fear."

"You underestimated the goddesses," I tell him. I shout it, as if Nayru herself will hear me in her holy asylum. "Isn't that what you said? That the dark was their creation? You were a poor sort of king, bereft of my Wisdom; you had no consideration, no patience. And your arrogance is without bounds if you truly thought yourself capable of controlling the goddesses' weapon."

"The goddesses are poxy harridans," Ganondorf says, his voice thick with loathing. "The sages speak of the golden land they dwell in, and the powers that lay in wait for the mortals who can breach the holy protections, but it's all a lie. Nothing lies beyond the Door of Time but darkness, as I learned to my sorrow. Still, it is of little matter. The darkness can now be sealed away with no one being the wiser."

"We will know, Link and me," I shoot back. Fright has made me insolent. "If you were kinder or more patient, then perhaps you could have achieved your goal with no one else knowing. But we will _never_ forget what has happened this day."

Ganondorf begins to smile as I speak. I mistrust the expression at once. "Zelda, you are quite mistaken. I'm kinder and more patient than you'll ever know. I could have let your ignorant sot of a father throw you to my horde. I could have fucked you bloody instead of treating you gently as my consort, and no one would have been the wiser. Many times, I was sorely tempted to do just that. Instead I gave you what you wanted: protection, companionship, and a lifetime to complete the task that I set to you. You should not curse me. You should be _grateful_."

"You used me. You _lied_ to me. How can you expect me to be grateful?"

"And what would you have done if you had known the truth? Would you have even believed I killed your father for the good of the kingdom? No, it would only have caused you needless upset." He shrugs, almost languidly. "It's not as if you had the Power to oppose me, in any case. It was the Wiser course to conceal certain things from you."

"What do you know of _Wisdom?_" I all but explode, completely belligerent and wanting nothing more than to react with violence. "What do you know of anything beyond your own base needs? You are not just selfish. You're _evil._"

Faced with my judgment, Ganondorf gives nothing more than the same languid shrug. "If I must be declared the villain for you to feel better about your part in things, then so be it. Perhaps you should kill me and have done."

I think he's speaking in jest until he slips the blade from his sleeve. Even in the semidarkness of the chamber, the steel gleams with an ethereal quality. "I knew he was the one," he murmurs, more to himself than me. "The shadows originated in the forest. How else could they have survived so long, if not for the blessing of Courage? Both you and he are so young that there can be no doubt. The goddesses removed those who would not comply from my path, and presented me with those who will return the kingdom to its natural state."

A chill chases itself down my spine at his words. After a long time, he offers the knife to me, hilt-first. I accept it with shaking hands and stare at its surface, the ancient glyphs carved into its pommel. I have used this blade so many times, to condemn and to save, both with the same stroke. Yet now it feels foreign in my hand, if only because I cannot discern Ganondorf's true intentions.

I think of stabbing him, sliding this dagger between his ribs past all those layers of boiled leather, but my heart cringes at the thought.

And then Ganondorf delivers a stroke of his own. "Perhaps the goddesses have a plan for you as well. Perhaps ridding yourself of me is the key to unlocking your true destiny. Kill me, Zelda, if you can." He opens his arms, welcoming as a priest, but all he's displaying is his vulnerability.

Terror freezes my breath in my throat. Is he serious? And what's more, can I possibly do it despite everything? I feel like a little girl with no idea of what's about to happen.

"Kill me," he says.

I close the distance between us and wave the knife before him, ignoring the shudder that passes through my whole body. He has been more a father figure to me than a husband; not a day ago he would have had me attainted and executed for such insolence. Is this yet another game?

"Kill me. Kill me, and you shall not long outlive me." Ganondorf sneers – in pain or contempt I can't tell – as I press the dagger against the side of his throat. "Kill me, and all control over the shadows will be lost; I cannot promise you what will happen then. Kill me, and kill everything you've known. _Do it._"

I guide the metal across the smooth contour of skin, wanting to make him hurt for all he's done yet not knowing how to go about it. I concentrate on the dagger most of all, knowing that if I meet his gaze, I will be rendered powerless again. All my life, I have wielded this weapon only in his defense, only for his glory. All my life, I have given him unfettered access to my body, to the ability I've named both blessing and curse. How can I free myself of that?

Something makes me forget my caution and I look up at his face. He looks perfectly tranquil; either self-assured or accepting of his fate. It doesn't seem fair that he should be free of torment when I am wracked with it. He saved my life, once, and now I must take his. He has been the only constant in my life. Should I end it quickly, slashing his throat, or bury the dagger deep in his belly, leaving him to shiver on the tiles for a week? How can I leave him to die, either way? I can't.

I can't.

I look up at the face of the man who has shaped so much of my life, and I can't. "I can't," I cry, flinging the dagger away; I hear it clatter against the tiles. "Din help me, I can't. I can't." The tears burn as I cry, painful and embarrassing even now.

"Twilight king." Link has stirred. "Leave Queen Zelda be; she has a gentle heart, and I won't stand idly by while you take advantage of her with your manipulations. You might not be able to force your gentle queen to kill you, but you have quite convinced me. I am but a humble dancer, but if you give me the chance to partner you, I swear you won't find me a disappointment. Will you grant me the honor?"

Ganondorf stares at him in mute amazement for a moment before laughing, the sound echoing like the mockery of a malicious chorus as he rises from the altar. "You don't know what you're asking for, fool boy." He sneers. "You should try not to be so Courageous…without that piece of cheap steel you call a sword, you'd be the same as any other adolescent failure. But that matters not; it would please me to teach you humility before I take what's mine."

Link draws his sword. "Let's dance, then."

"_No_!" I scream in fright, but the clash of steel smothers my attempt at protest. An impulsive feeling rises in my chest and I edge towards them, intent on stopping this madness.

"Stop." Faster than I can follow, Ganondorf turns, parries Link's slash, and directs an invisible force my way so strong that I stumble back towards the altar, winded and aching. Unseen shackles snake up my form, chaining me to the stone and rendering me incapable of doing anything more than watching in fear. "This is not your affair."

My thoughts flow fractured as I watch them dance. The blows come fast and furious, almost too quickly to follow. I look at their faces, where they are not so terribly different: both already flushed, twisted with the effort of swordplay, and their eyes narrowed in bloodlust. Link presses the attack from his left side, Ganondorf from his right, but for both of them the only defense that remains is their blades.

I want to speak, want to move, but I don't know in whose behalf I would speak, or what I would do if I were free. For all of Ganondorf's bulk and reach, they seem evenly matched; while Ganondorf seeks to overwhelm Link with the sheer force of his blows, Link picks at his defenses, shifting weight from foot to foot as he tries experimental swipes. The fight's barely begun, and already so much hangs in the balance.

The shadows at the threshold are screaming, begging for an audience.

As they dance, their Virtues burn through my blood. They are holding nothing back, and their Virtuous auras are all but visible to my eye. Ganondorf's is impossibly massive, following behind him like a train, while Link's is more flighty, prone to disappearing with a lunge, chaotic and uncontrolled. They trade parries, and as Ganondorf catches the edge of Link's sword a third time, he presses close, whispers something so quietly I cannot hear.

The words send Link into a rage. Forgetting all his fighter's grace, he pushes the attack now, sending Ganondorf stumbling back towards the altar. I hear his breathless laughter, their grunts of effort growing ever more strained. Surely this madness cannot last much longer. Their swords flash, snagging against leather and skin, till finally they clash and hold the stance for a moment. Then, Ganondorf pushes off and regains control, catching Link off-balance. They parry and thrust and clash again, and no sooner than they've met that Ganondorf brings his sword down at an unexpected angle.

It bites deeply into Link's vulnerable right side, and he gives a long moan full of agony.

"_No!_" I scream furiously.

Giving Ganondorf a look of pure hatred, Link raises his sword once more and lets out a strangled battle cry.

Before I can see the sword fall, bright green light fills the chamber; it's so piercing that I close my eyes against it. In its wake, I feel a swell of Courage so strong that tears fill my eyes. It's almost as if I am holding his hand in mine again, for the first time; experiencing a lifetime of memories, along with all the powers the goddesses infused in him. I have never been Courageous…yet I feel as if I could be, now. The sensation is that immediate.

It's gone as quickly as it came, and I open my eyes tentatively. What I see makes me scream.

Link and Ganondorf are locked in battle still, but Link is the only one moving. Ganondorf's sword is on the ground, while Link's sword is stuck clean into my husband's chest, piercing his heart. His Power has no influence here now, but I can't bring myself to move. When he sees me watching, Link pulls the sword free.

I stare in wordless horror as my husband falls lifelessly to the tiles, rendered incapable of speech for that moment.

"You…you killed him, we're…we're going to die…" I sit down heavily on the edge of the altar while my head spins with both disbelief and fear.

Link kneels a fair distance from me, breathing heavily. Sweat and blood mingle on his forehead, matting his muted blonde hair, and despite the fact his side is stained black with blood he retains his grip on his soiled sword. He says nothing. There are words that could be said, apologies that could be made, but they would all fall flat in the face of impending death, we both seem to know. The temple walls ring with the wails of screaming shadows, and all around us the chamber grows darker, sending me to a heightened state of horror.

Any harsh words I might have said would simply fall on deaf ears, his and my own. I tear my gaze from him, looking at the horror that is Ganondorf. He seems smaller now, more pathetic than I have ever seen him. It seems patently absurd that I should ever have been afraid of him.

The shadows cannot turn us into such as they are, no, but they can kill us. Certainly they would have done the very same to Ganondorf, had they not been borne from his flesh. And his words eat away at me. He knew the shadows more intimately than any other, and even still was not able to bring them under his control for nearly a year. What chance do we stand, when all that protects us is our Virtue?

But our Virtue is all that saved us when we were face-to-face with the horde. It is all that saved Hyrule all those years ago, when the screaming shadows were on our crenels. If all three of us are here, if the essence of Power hasn't escaped Ganondorf's body just yet… An idea occurs to me, makes me tremble with hope. _Perhaps the goddesses have a plan for you, _I hear him say.

If I was able to save the kingdom, once, why should I not try again?

I look at Ganondorf, but fear to approach him. He was the only guide I had in life, the thing I lived in fear of, yet now he is less than a flea.

My father's words float above the flood of memory, _A king must be a wolf,_ but wolves are cunning as well as fierce…

I kneel beside Ganondorf in his blood and take his hand. Though limp, it's still warm and tingling with the goddesses' blessing. I search for the Power within him before it can escape, remembering all the times I have done this over the years. I remember every sweet word he ever gave me, every barb, every curse. "Do you remember what I told you, the day we first came here?" I ask Link.

He is silent for so long that I fear he's fled. "I remember," he says finally, softly. "You said you'd never let the horde kill us. You never did, but you're right – I just as good as killed us myself. Our lives are over."

"Maybe," I whisper, "but not just yet." I find the warm core of Ganondorf's Power and curl my phantom fingers around it. My limbs tremble from the mingled pain and pleasure, from the force of Wisdom and Power mingling within my body. Tears burn at the corners of my eyes. This is a sweeter joining than any other, cherished, nurtured, praised…but only in the absence of the third. I hold out my other hand. "Come here. Give me your hand."

Link never speaks. The silence goes on and on until it's more than I can bear, but just when I'm about to give up hope I hear the scuff of his boots on the tiles as he nears me. "You swear he's dead," he says lowly, kneeling beside me before the altar. "You swear you know what you're doing. You swear – you swear you won't let the horde kill us. Swear it. Swear it by the goddesses."

"I promise." I fumble for his hand, find it, and close my eyes. "I won't let them kill us. I promise."


End file.
